Here is the cowwoman at 14 years of age, about to toddle across the stage in her first heels for her 8th grade graduation. My mother didn't give me a corsage like everyone else, but a little wreath for my ponytail. Already, I am embarrassed. I remember little of these days, mostly because I was so worried all the time. Am I okay here? I was so different from all the other kids, miles taller, kind of awkward and athletically challenged, like I tripped over my own feet just walking. It would have been so different if I were the person I am today, much more self-assured. Well, on most days. Just recently I had a turtle day, just pulled into the shell, never got out of the PJs, shuffled around the house in fluffy socks, piddled at the pastel-du-jour, and hid from the big bad world. Costco lured me out of that funk, and here I am, all dressed and blown-dry and made-up, and it is only 11 AM! Progress, not perfection. Sigh.
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