More radio silence as I lick my wounds after a bad finish at the Rock n Roll Philadelphia Half Marathon on the 15th. I chalked it up to lack of preparation and a few extra pounds I’m now dedicated to losing. My training schedule is taped to the wall beside me and I’m rearranging my life to make the time. I may have to learn to run in the dark. Not a great idea, especially on the one stretch of road I run, but hey, maybe it’ll make me run faster.
Anyway, my morning got shaken up by finding out I’d finaled in the Ruby Slippered Sisterhood’s annual Make It Golden contest. Entrants submit their first 50 words, and this morning the finalists were announced. No one was more shocked than I was that I finaled, *and* my entry was first on the list! I have no idea if that means something or not; maybe they list worst first.
The finalists then post the first 250 words of their potential Golden Heart entry. You can either go to their link to read mine:
Or you can read it right here:
“Why did I tell Eddie I’d go to his wedding?” I flipped through a rack of dresses that would only look good if I had the body of a life-sized Barbie doll. I didn’t.
“Because you got custody of his best man in the divorce.” Sandy perused the rack next to mine. The mall dress shop’s offerings didn’t seem to bother her as much, but for a forty-something, my best friend had the body of a young Cindy Crawford, while I had the body of an old circus elephant. Okay, not really. Maybe I felt the part more than I looked it.
“Oh. Right.” I sighed, rejecting another dress when all I’d seen of it was the shoulder. In my defense, no one looked good in that shade of green.
Damn Eddie. Not only did he walk out me, but now he was making me dress-shop for a wedding I damn well didn’t want to go to. I hated dress shopping. Nothing ever looked right on me. None of my parts were where they had been fifteen years before. It’s hard to feel sexy when your boobs point south.
I looked out the shop window at the people walking past, going about their lives already in progress. What I wouldn’t give to be any one of them. Some were prettier than I was, some were thinner, some were better dressed, probably most of them had more money, but I’d bet they were all happier.
It still needs some editing (can I say “the body” a few more times at the start of a story? I think not), but fingers crossed! I really didn’t see this happening because my entry last year was just so awesome, there was no topping it:
“Uh, Coach? Why is there a naked woman in our showers?”
Jonah Landis looked up from the latest team roster to find Tommy standing in the doorway, looking as confused as he was excited. Poor kid, the ball boy was just fifteen. At his age, naked women were still a novelty. “Is there, now.”
Yesterday I filed to get my last name back. I didn’t think I could top that. Well…