I Asked for This (or Something Like This).

I left my comfort zone.

Yes, again.

It's terrifying really, to step outside my cozy world into something about which I know absolutely nothing. I don't like change. My body and my mind are creatures of habit. I like knowing what to expect. I like knowing how to handle all the things that come my way. I like being in control.

It's even more terrifying when I make a plan, but, since I have no holding in this new, slippery world, I get pulled off course and get snagged on a crevice I hadn't expected to find and rub elbows with folks I hadn't expected to befriend.

They...the native villagers...the ones who've been here longer...they feel more comfortable with each other. They know each other's idiosyncrasies and each other's habits; they have private jokes. They buy each other sentimental little gifts and have cute little nicknames for each other. They know when to leave each other alone and when to give hugs. They're family.

I'm just one of the distant cousins. We share the bloodline of the company, but I'm that relative who got lost in the woods as a child and had to be raised by wolves. I'm socially awkward, so things come out wrong, or maybe I don't catch on to the tone of the conversation right away. Oh sure, I can fix my hair and iron my shirt. I can strut around with my big red badge that says, "Hey, I belong here. See? It says so right here on my Official Red Badge of Belonging." 

But I still can't help but to cringe when one of the underlings asks for a "real manager." It's hard to smile and remind them that I do not stand on the shoulders of my new-found giant family. I've got my own two legs, shaky as they may be.

Oh...and, of course, I've got my red badge of courage.

Does this transition make me look pretty?

Yesterday was the last day of my incarceration in the cutting room, with the big, knife-wielding boys and their caveman attitudes about everything, including women. I can't say after eleven years of bossing the boys around that I'll miss it at all. There's been enough blade-slinging in my life. Enough name-calling. Enough ass-grabbing.

I'll miss Alyssa. I feel awful leaving her back there on her own. Everybody needs a wingman. She was mine. I was hers. I'll miss Jesse for a little while, but I suspect he'll seek me out when he gets too lonely. Of course, he always seems to find a buddy where ever he looks. He'll be alright without me.

I can't say I'm heart-broken to be leaving the man-cave, even if it is only to the front part of the store. Bookkeeping, they told me, but they've got me scheduled to check. Maybe there was some miscommunication. They told me before that I make too much money to check. I completely agree. Bookkeeping seems more like my kind of thing. Who knows what's going on. It'll straighten itself out soon enough.

I'm shrugging the shoulder and thinking it's whatever.

Everybody says there's so much drama at the front of the store, but there's drama everywhere, and I'm all grown now, so bring it on. We're gonna work that shit out.

The best part is, I'll get to be pretty and look like a girl. I went and got my nails done today to celebrate the transition. I almost went for the mani-pedi, but opted for the eyebrow-waxing instead. It was time...

Spring Break begins tomorrow afternoon, but I have those kinds of teachers who like to take that opportunity to give a lengthy assignment, in case of boredom. Bless their little hearts.

I'm taking the day-long tour of the university tomorrow in Canyon. I'm so lucky to be living here, where the college and the university are so accessible. I thought about moving to Canyon, to save gas, but then I remembered it's a dry county, so...no.

Besides, the kiddos and the grand-kiddos would miss me too much. I like to think I'm pretty much their favorite person.

I'm going to miss Mr. Green Eyes. I think I'll miss him most of all.