Mean Girl

Personal

I’ve been dealing with something for the past few days and I can’t shake it. It’s as if I’ve held a mirror to myself and saw someone else staring back at me; someone who looks nothing like me. Or, not the outside of me. You see, the person staring back at me has green skin, a large, crooked nose, and dark circles around her eyes. This person looks nothing like me. At least until I figured out that that’s what I look like on the inside. MEAN.

A few Sundays ago, JD and I celebrated his mother’s birthday. His entire family spent the afternoon together, then headed off to play a game of softball. This may seem totally pleasant and normal, but I have a history with sports. As in, I play like I’m competing for a gold medal. Or the national title. Or a king-size Snickers bar. In fact, the last time I played softball with my in-laws, my behavior (which included heckling pre-pubescent batters and cheering when opposing family members struck out) left JD mortified.

As the family walked to a nearby park, JD slung his arm around my shoulder and smiled. Oh, but don’t be deceived, Internet. It was a smile, but as JD spoke though gritted teeth, I knew what was in store: PLAY NICELY!

With the passing of each inning, I was calm, cool, and collected. My team was killing the other, so I was a happy camper. Until the last inning. When my mother-in-law’s team made a comeback. The game was close, with a runner on first base and my mother-in-law on second. I defended third base. Oooh, do you see where this is going? A hard pop-fly was hit my way, but I.DROPPED.THE.BALL!!! As the other team screams victoriously, I panic. And throw Miss Happy Camper away.

I scramble for the ball and see my mother-in-law running to third. I don’t remember if I slipped, but the next thing I know, I’m crawling like a deranged woman toward third base. Covered in dirt and grass, I tag the base with the ball. Still laying on my belly, I lift the ball in the air and scream, She’s OUT!! I GOT HER OUT!!

Then silence ensued. And nobody moved.

Everyone stared at me with slight bewilderment. I…just…tagged…out…my…mother-in-law…ON HER BIRTHDAY!?!?

Oh, Internet, what’s a mean girl to do? Dust her green skin off, point her crooked nose in the air, and smile in such a way that makes the dark circles around my eyes more obvious, that’s what.