So this morning, I woke up to this:
I didn’t have my contacts in, and dad had turned on my lights. The two together, in the morning, apparently makes me a little blind and deaf, so that picture is scarily accurate. It took me a second to figure out what he was saying. It was something to the effect of, “good morning! Did you know it’s ten o’clock?” It’s not a direct quote, but it was enough to send me shooting out of my bed, heading straight for the bathroom. I’m not sure when Dad left.
I have just about perfected my morning routine, so I was still a little early for my ice skating lesson, at eleven. And that was perfect, because I still got good skates, or at least the best skates the skate rental has to offer, and I didn’t have to wait very long.
I had a pretty good lesson. I had yet another coach. She was very nice, but we went through the whole; “Are you in school?” “I’ve graduated” “Well, how old are you?” “I’m fourteen” “Well how does that work?” “I was home-schooled.” “You must be very smart.” “Not really.” conversation, although, this was one of the shorter ones. I hate this particular kind of conversation. Not only, are the questions usually very predictable, annoying, and seemingly endless, but I’m bad at answering them. I am trying to remind myself, that although, I am sick of this conversation, to other people, it is new and interesting. But I think I did a fairly good job of arranging my face into a pleasant, polite expression, but only the coach could really know.
What I do know, is that I am making significant progress, even if I’m not great, I’m at least doing pretty well for my beginners status. But I won’t bore you with the details of backwards swizzles, one foot glides, cross overs, swirls, and one foot swizzles. Instead, let’s fast forward to near the end of my lesson. A couple of the coaches, were talking to me about my progress. They were joking around, and one of them told me “In a year or two, you’ll be the next Michelle Kwan.” I knew she didn’t mean it, but I grinned and said “Thanks!” And then, the other coach, who happened to be the guy that taught my first lesson replied, looking at his fellow coach “She sure is pretty enough.” I’ve always been a little suspicious of people who say I’m pretty, when they aren’t closely related to me, and obligated to do so. Mom says, the people who work the booths at the mall and yell “Hey, pretty ladies!” to get you to stop, did this to me. But then again, it’s common knowledge that Mom hates them, and thinks they’re absolutely the most obnoxious things on earth.
What I was thinking:
What I said: