Girly Girl

A couple of days ago Karlo, Jill, and I were taking a walk around the office building at lunchtime. We ran across one of the grounds crew guys digging a ditch to fix some sewer issues. He joked around about how it's a good thing that he's around because 'somebody has to do the dirty work around this place.' That led to more jokes and him commenting that he could see Jill jumping into the dirt hole to help out, but not me . . . Not me . . . because I'm a "girly girl." I was appalled! "WHAT? Me, a girly girl???" Ha, that wasn't true at all. Surely Karlo would set him straight. I waited, but nothing. So I encouraged Karlo jump to my defense and set this guy straight (by smacking him of course). Just because I dress like a girly girl doesn't mean I AM one. And I should mention that I was wearing an adorable new tangerine dress with the cutest polka dot scarf at the time.


But still, you can't judge a book by the cover, right? How many grueling miles have I hiked and biked? How many cords of wood have I stacked? How many yards of rocks have I moved, or feet of snow have I shoveled? And after all that, Karlo laughs and agrees with the guy that I am indeed a girly girl?!? I was devastated and came to the conclusion that Karlo has obviously never known a real girly girl!

So later that day we get home from work, and I'm still half-heartedly ticked about this new title of mine. Then I open the front door looking for whatever goody the UPS may have delivered to me that day. Low and behold my new motorcycle helmet has arrived. I was thrilled. And that just gave me more ammunition against being a girly girl. How many girly girls drive bad-ass enduro motorcycles????

And then I put my new helmet on and looked into the mirror . . . I bowed my head and came to the shocking realization that . . . my God, it's true. I just may be a girly girl. Check out my new helmet . . . . I'm gonna look ridiculous . . .