Day 28: I guess I have grown accustomed to a chauffer. It's now a comfort zone. Yesterday, I sat in the front seat for the first time, and I was freaked out the entire time. The shoulder belt is NOT my friend. It's bad news bears. It's out to get me I'm sure. I have this irrational fear the entire time Ron is driving that we will be in an accident with me being thrown into the belt crushing the imposters. Today, I want to choose the back seat again. Would you think bad of me for this backward slide? Is there a 12 step program for back seat riders anonymous? I'm bigger than that, right? And somehow I'm supposed to transition from my back seat haven to that of driver! EEEEKKK!
See, my fear is not in the driving itself. It is like riding a bicycle. It is the pot hole that is my enemy. The speed bump. The pea size pebble that once traversed by my wheel sends chaos through my chest.
My family has chuckled at the choice words that leave my lips at the sight of a upcoming bridge or pavement change. FUSELLI PASTA! CRAWFISH STEW! OH MY GOSH, OH MY GOSH, OH MY GOSH! And maybe on occassion something a tad stronger. Maybe. It doesn't help that the entire ride from shutting the door to arriving at said location I'm sitting there as stiff as a mummy. Put a piece of coal under my armpit and no doubt in an hour you will find a diamond. I'm too afraid of each little bump and jelly mold giggle that I can't do anything but clinch.
I want to conquer the seat belt! I want to tame the clinch! People, work is 12 days away. Surely! If I could just get some of the chest tightness and swelling to lessen then I wouldn't require so much clinching and bracing at every driving moment. It almost takes the joy out of the destination. Almost (these four walls are pretty motivating)! I should probably acquire a "student driver" sign so fellow drivers will find pity on my 25mph car stroll.
First, I have to work up some nerve. For the record, I still have yet to hug my mirror so there is a precedent for "delay".
1 comment:
Hang in there, girlie. One day in not too log you'll look back and struggle to remember how sensitive they were. I promise, it's coming!
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