Patience is a *%#! virtue

I’m trying, folks. I really am. Two full work days have gone by since I first learned I’d been drafted, and I still have a full week to hang on before I know what team has picked me. It’s that week that is killing me softly.

Here are the silly thoughts that are going through my head:

“Well, if I get drafted to be a Victory Vixen, my name and helmet will match perfectly. I could even start doing some kind of stars and stripes face makeup.”

'MERICA!

“If I make the Dorothys, that team dominates.”

“Who am I kidding? I’m a frickin’ Kansas City Roller Warrior! I don’t CARE what team I’m on!”

“Ooh, I should change my number to relate to Mary Lou Retton!” Seriously, I need help. Should it be LA84 (since she dominated the Los Angeles Olympics)? USA84? 1984? Simply ’84?

I’m overthinking it all. Really, people, what it comes down to is this: I want to feel like I’m part of a team again. I want to start working together with the girls who will be my teammates — figuring out who I can work with to build unbreakable walls, who will clear the path for me when I jam, who the people are that will make me a better skater and derby player.

And I’d be lying if there wasn’t a tiny part of me that’s just anxious to pick out new Derby Skinz, socks, tights and fishnets. After all, we might be vicious on the track and proud of the fact that we’re tough athletes. But we also tend to love the fact that we get to look cute while beating the snot out of each other. Hey, it’s all part of derby.

Now, if I can wait just one more week…

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