Jazz and Wasps

The big midterm was yesterday, and I was ready. I spent the hour before hand chilling in the library, and sat down at four past the hour, which was cool because the class didn’t start until ten past. Then I had one of those chilling, slow dawning realization that makes you actually blanch. My driver’s license was in the car. This sentence may not mean much, but you have to realize that in order to receive credit for the exam, you have to show some form of photo ID, and that was mine. So what did I do? I stood up, asked the girl next to me to watch my backpack and I sprinted all the way across the large campus, and to my car. When I opened the door, pale, sweaty and shaking so hard the key wouldn’t go in the first time, I reached into the driver’s side door pocket thing, and groped for my wallet.

It. Wasn’t. There. Words cannot express the fear I felt. I actually screamed, and people turned, looking for the rapist and/or car thief. Then the wallet gods smiled down upon me, and I remembered that my wallet was in my trunk. All in all, it took me seven or eight minutes to make the round trip, and I was only a little late. I ended up getting a C+ on the test, too, so it can’t have affected my performance too much. The incident taught me two very important lessons, though. Firstly, remember to keep my stupid student ID card in my backpack at all times no matter what. A discount at the movies is not worth a mile sprint, it’s just not. Secondly, it taught me that I’m not nearly in as good’a shape as I’d like to be. I have been working on this, though. Four days a week for the last three weeks, I’ve been getting up at six to do sit-ups and squats with my mom. Still, it wasn’t really good enough.

Over the weekend I noticed a dramatic difference in my waist. Now, I’m exceptionally short-waisted. I mean, we’re talking rip-to-hip overlap here, so I always figured there was nothing to be done about it. I’ll never have a waspish figure, but, after three weeks of sit-ups and such, I do have an actual noticeable place in my torso that is smaller around than the rest, and is above my stomach and below my sternum, so I’m pretty jazzed about that.

I’ve always found the term “jazz hands” incredibly amusing. It seriously makes my day every time I hear it.