Fried in First

Last Monday night, my company had their annual Holiday party at their annual random pick of a venue - Dave & Buster's. My reaction to this news was a 1 on the enthusiasm scale, given that I am more of a martini and stilettos kind of girl than a Dave & Buster's kind of girl. Or so I thought...

I was quite the athlete in high school. Not only did I get "best sportsmanship" as my senior year superlative (who wants to get "most beautiful" anyway), I almost wound up playing D1 basketball but gave it up to do the sorority/binge drinking thing. Given that my older brother was more into golf and bowling in high school (sorry Big Fried but you were), my dad placed his hopes for a contact sports child on me, and told me to act more like a tom boy than boy crazy. Clearly I managed to be both, but either way, in my twenties, I am far more tan than agile. So Dave & Buster's wasn't immediately on my "things I am thrilled to do" list.

To my surprise however, upon arrival to the Holiday extravaganza, not only did I forgo the buffet (unheard of especially when mini sliders are on the menu), I pushed passed the herd of small children waiting to get their game credits, and went straight to the basketball shooting game. I did well the first round, better the next, and so on and so on for almost an hour. I beat kid after kid, screaming in their face things like "boo ya" and "yeah WHAT?" I even chest bumped a younger girl I didn't even know when I got my highest score. And the tickets for winning kept coming out. I started a pile of them, disregarding the bruises forming on my knees and ankles from jumping in stilettos (please note this is a standstill hot-shots game, not a live action court situation, no need for jumping).

I felt a sudden surge of energy and level of competitiveness come over me that is strange and inappropriate for a professional woman at her company Holiday shindig, and I knew it was all down hill from here. Throwing my cardigan off and pulling my hair back into a ponytail, I challenged anyone I could to car racing, skeet ball, even the game where you pay tokens to get more tokens. I was sweating, talking far too fast, and somewhere along the way lost my purse. But I didn't care. It was game time.

After an hour of standing at the hand-grabber candy machine (won a Charleston Chew and mini Butterfinger after ten tries - I at least deserved a Snickers), I calmed my heartbeat and stepped away from the flashing lights, sound of coins falling and kids screaming. And I realized...I have a ton of tickets to cash in for a prize!!!

I was making my way over to the store (filled with the kind of useless crap that only myself and a 9 year old would love), when my co-worker and friend Rachel stopped me. She explained that she had some tickets too and that it would be a nice gesture to give our tickets to a child (not sure why she assumes I am an adult), so that they can enjoy a bigger prize. Reluctantly I handed her my tickets in exchange for a glass of wine and watched as she "did the right thing."

I didn't sleep that night. Not only because I knew some kid was running around with an awesome toy that I fully deserved, but also because I felt something inside of me coming alive. I had forgotten how incredibly over-competitive (and sometimes scary), I can be when it comes to games, sports, really anything that involves a chance to win. And it felt great. Don't get me wrong, I love the city-girl side of me, the sushi-eating, french manicured, overly-bronzed woman that I am, but I also love that competitive, never-back-down, gotta get the win girl that I think I had forgotten about...

Sometimes it is in the smallest, most random things, like a Holiday party at Dave & Buster's on a Monday night that make you realize the greatest, most important things about yourself. It doesn't matter what anyone thinks about you, all that matters is what you know about yourself. I know that this fried lady has quite the fire inside of her, and well, I put up a damn good fight.

Aging is "Facocta"

I was at a friend's apartment last night for a fondue party, and I found myself making my way from an over-sized super cozy chair to a high wrought iron bar stool. As I sat down, I said out loud, "wow, this feels great. I really needed to switch to a nice hard chair," and it hit me. I am getting old.

I started to think about all of the other subtle signs in my life that are beginning to shed light on the fact that college wasn't just a few years ago anymore. It was almost 5 years ago, and high school almost 10. And while I am only at the ripe age of 26, I am aware now that I am entering an unknown and harsh terrain called growing up.

Some of my favorite shows during the week, most are of the mindless reality TV-show genre, start at 10 or 10:30pm, and that schedule suddenly makes me angry. 10pm seems much later than it used to, and I fight heavy eyelids just to get to the conclusion of the program. I have complained several times recently that these shows should be on at 8pm which is a far more "reasonable" hour. And when I do get in bed at night now, I sigh. Not an "oh this is a comfy bed" sigh, but more of an "oh my body is aching and now it can re-gain its strength" sigh. Very scary.

I also have a new sense of impatience. And when my patience is tested I use angry Yiddish words that my Jewish grandmother frequently spews when she too feels a sense of injustice or that her time is being wasted. When the bus came late the other day, (yes people, I take the bus), I swiped my metro card, turned to my bus-friend and said emphatically, "this bus schedule is facocta." That is Yiddish for f'd up. Who says that?

Have I mentioned all of a sudden I cannot digest dairy? Yes, age has eliminated an entire level of the food pyramid for me, and now I have doctors asking me if I take calcium supplements so I don't get osteoporosis. The fact that the word "osteoporosis" came up in my annual check-up last year means lollipops after exams are no longer acceptable (my pediatrician put in a good word for me with my internal doctor a few years back), and I have to move on to a mineral supplement parting gift instead.

There is something beautiful in this growing up business though. I do get a lot more sleep than I used to, and I have no choice but to listen to my body when I am beat since now it yells instead of whispers when I am worn down. I also have a lot more empathy towards my parents, grandparents, and the old guy who calls me every day at work and asks me if we have eggplant (I work at a magazine).

Growing up and getting older also reminds me that each moment is a true gift and that I am blessed to have my health and a full life packed with love, family and friends. And although I am grateful for this day and this time, I do hope that someday they start to offer senior citizens discounts at the tanning salon. That, my friends, will never change.