Like many little girls, I wanted to be a cheerleader. Cheerleaders were pretty, got to wear cute little outfits, had big fluffy pompoms, they were popular and got to hang out with the cool kids.
When I got to junior high school I got my chance, I signed up for try-outs. I made up a routine and practiced. Then came the day for the trials.
Anyhoo . . . I did my thing and tried my best. I thought I did pretty well. The panel wasn’t overly impressed with my performance. I’m sure my evil sister had influenced them because it wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that I’m a wee bit clumsy and slightly less than graceful. Of course not . . . I blame my evil sister.
Meh . . . who cares? I didn’t want to be pretty or wear a cute little outfit or lug around big fluffy pompoms or be popular or hang around with the cool kids.