"Ah, you are using Bonetti's Defense against me!"
"I thought it fitting, considering the rocky terrain."
"Naturally, you would expect me to counter with a Cappa-ferra?"
"Naturally. But I find a Tybalt cancels out a Cappa-ferra. Don't you?"
"Unless the enemy has studied his Agrippa...which I have."
We were watching football, as we usually do on Sunday afternoons, and I got to wondering about the cheerleaders.
Who are these women?? In High School, it's cool to be a cheerleader; in college, it's an extra-curricular activity that only a few people continue to pursue - and one that seems to get dropped in the third or fourth year, when classes start to get intense and graduation becomes a looming reality. But who takes it further than that? Surely there's a point, and an age, where being a cheerleader just isn't that cool anymore.
I wonder if they even know anything about football? They must know a little - else how would they know when to cheer? If it was me, standing there watching game after home game, I would pick up at least the rudiments of the game, even if it didn't interest me all that much...but of course if it was me, I wouldn't be there in the first place.
And I wonder what the players think of the cheerleaders? In High School, the captain of the football team was always supposed to date the head cheerleader, right? But I don't see any of the big famous NFL quarterbacks hanging out much with the eye candy. Even they have moved on, and most, it seems, are either married or dating women of substance.
Do NFL cheerleaders get paid? Is this like an actual job for them? Do they make enough to pay their bills - do they even have bills? Or is it just a side-gig that picks up a few extra bucks? Do they have other, real jobs? What do they do in the off-season? Modelling, I suppose...if you consider that a real job...
Women like that - cheerleaders and beauty queens - have always fascinated me. As a waitress, the way I look does have an impact on my job; but for me, that's always been an obstacle to be overcome. And I have overcome it, I think, by being very, very good at my job. But my life is about going to work to pay the bills and buy groceries and put gas in my car, then figuring out what to fix for dinner.
These Barbie-dolls with their pretend lives...what must that be like? I don't think I would want to find out. I like being real. Even if the reality isn't always pretty.
I didn't want to do it.
I've been so good for so long...
I swear I didn't want to do it, but I just didn't seem to have any choice.
It was the weekend, I was away from home...
You know, I didn't even have to say anything about it; no one would've known, except the people who were with me - my husband and my daughter (and in my own defense, I didn't give her any.)
If it helps, I didn't enjoy it. I hated myself the whole time. I even thought I was going to be sick.
Lord, please give me the strength not to do it again.
.
It happened like this:
We were in Muleshoe, coming back from taking his sister and her kids home to Clovis, and we were hungry, and didn't have a lot of money to spend. So...
(I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry)
...we went to McDonald's.
We looked for a Dairy Queen - we did! But the only one in town was closed down. Our other choices were Sonic (too expensive), Pizza Hut (takes too long), or Leal's (too expensive and takes too long).
It was horrible; I almost gagged on every bite - even the soda didn't taste good to me. The whole experience reminded me of when I quit smoking: all of a sudden every time I took a drag off a cigarette, I could just feel all that junk going into my body, and it was disgusting. It didn't take me long to quit, and before long after that I couldn't even stand the smell of cigarette smoke - and I stll can't. Same thing with the Big Mac I found myself choking down. The taste, the smell, even the texture of it, plus the knowledge of what I'd just given my money to - it was sickening, and I devoutly hope that I never have to go into one of those red-and-yellow buildings again.
