Tha baddest G around

Yesterday was my first time on ice for weeks.  I missed a Friday to stay at a friend's house while my mom and brother toured colleges.  I missed a Tuesday because I had a migraine and a Friday because it was the day after my sixteenth birthday and I was going to see Spring Awakening with a friend.  I wanted to miss this Tuesday, too.  I had just gotten my voice back after a weekend of horrific laryngitis and I was pretending to have a sore throat.  The truth was that I really just didn't want to skate.  At all.  This is one of my biggest problems.  I either have to commit my entire life to skating or I completely lose interest.  I can't go halfway.  I can't skate two days a week.  I have to obsess.  And if I don't obsess, I don't care.  

"Mom.  Can I not go skating tomorrow?"

"What?  Why?"

"My throat hurts.  And I have a chemistry quiz, and it's going to be really hard..."

"Then you have to call your coach.  I'm not doing this."

I scowled and stomped away, rewinding eleven years to magic myself into a five year old.  I didn't want to call my coach.  I would just feel guilty.  So I watched Mao Asada's 2007 short program and listened to a song that makes me want to skate.  And I prepared to obsess.

This morning I slept in until 5:45.  I panicked before realizing that I had no school and my lesson was at 7:30.  It went well.  I learned some weird-as-hell MITF.  My jumps were hit or miss.  My spins were okay, but I stumbled a lot.  I can't stop myself from stumbling in front of Mr. &#@%$. He's the senior coach there.  He's coached a recent Olympian.  And she didn't place last, or anything.  She medaled.  He's the best, so I skate like shit whenever he's turned my way.  

I'm skating five days this week.  Even on Thanksgiving.