Fine. Here's a Post. Happy Now?

I was on the phone with Susan this morning when - in the middle of an entirely unrelated thought - she blurts out "GAH! I hate it when you don't blog".

To which I responded by telling here that I typically do not blog on the weekends, but that I'd made a special exception and blogged on Saturday - so SHUT UP AND QUITCHER COMPLAINING!

But the truth is, I have no energy to blog today.  I have a cold.  The kind that makes me cough the cough of a lifelong Marlboro addict.

It's miserable.

So instead of taking up any more time on the Internet complaining about the difficulties of my immune system, let's just have another story, shall we?

When I was nine I went to sleep-away camp.  Well, that's not entirely true, I was technically eight when I went to camp, as my birthday fell DURING camp.  Which means my mother put me on a bus to camp KNOWING FULL WELL she would not be there to kiss my sweet head on my 9th birthday.

I have no idea how she sleeps at night even now.  THE NERVE OF HER!

Anyway, I was anxious about sleep-away camp, and when I'm anxious about an event - even now - I convince myself that all my nerves will melt away if I have a Very Cute New Outfit to wear to the anxiety producing event.

Do you do this?  Buy something new so that you at least feel cute when you're nervous?

I thought so.

Since sleep away camp didn't really require cute outfits, my mother settled for letting me choose a brand new swimsuit out of the Lillian Vernon catalog.

And since the swimsuit came from Lillian Vernon, it was personalized.  Meaning: my name was displayed across the chest of my swimsuit in little white velvety iron-on letters. R-I-T-A.

Because there is nothing, and I mean NOTHING in the world that SCREAMS 1985 like velveteen iron-on letters. 

Off I skipped to camp with my new swimsuit.  When the time came for us girls to dive into the gigantic camp swimming pool I was feeling confident and calm.

And then it happened.  I was bobbing in the deep end with my friends when I noticed one of my velveteen letters floating nearby.

And then I saw another.

Oh dear God, the "R" and the "A" had simply detached themselves from my new suit, leaving me there in a swimsuit spelling "IT" across the chest.

I began frantically picking at the remaining letters, but they were so attached that it was like they'd bonded with my suit at the MOLECULAR LEVEL.  Nothing I did worked.  They were stuck.

I spent the rest of camp wearing my "IT" bathing suit while sporting a hairstyle that could rival - you guessed it - Cousin It.

I had long  - really long - bushy red hair.  And an "IT" bathing suit.

My mother is lucky I came home at all.  I briefly considered changing my name and going into the Witness Protection Program.

I swear to you I am scarred for life.