It Was a Cute Picture Though

Yesterday, I began my 18th year of teaching.

An hour before school began, I snapped a picture of myself -- something I'm typically embarrassed to do even in the privacy of my own classroom.

And it looked good y'all. I got 113 likes on Facebook. People who have not liked anything since before Trump announced his candidacy were throwing me likes. I got comments that I looked better now than 18 years ago. I changed my Twitter avi to it, y'all.

I can tell you unequivocally and without shame that I was feelin' myself.

FEELIN' IT.

My gray hair was lookin' blonde. My face was relatively blemish-free. The bags under my eyes took a vacation of their own.

Yes, I used an Instagram filter, but I didn't even use the most dramatic one.

So I came home last night after a long first day -- 7:00-7:00 shift. I was tired, but overall it had been one of the best first days I had ever had. I watched some tv. I had a relatively normal dinner. I went to bed thinking, "Holy crap. I'm finally getting good at this first day of school business."

ALL KINDS OF FEELIN' MYSELF.

And then I woke up.

And then I caught a cramp just trying to walk to the bathroom.

And then I tried to talk and a bullfrog jumped out of my face.

I know I read a lot of books and just generally hung around the house this summer, but come on. I should not be sore and exhausted from standing all day. Or pacing through my room. Or talking. But I sure was.

Still, I thought that once I got going, I'd be okay. And I was.

Until I wasn't.

There is no tired like back-to-school tired. Teaching is a full-body, full-spirit workout. And there is absolutely no way to warm-up for it. You can be in marathon-running shape, but my God in Heaven, I swear it'd be easier and faster to crawl through 26.2 miles of broken glass than to explain which lunch period a 7th grader goes to. It exhausts you to your very soul.

Flash forward to me, eating some shells and cheese that have been in my pantry for nearly 2 years. Out of the pan. With a rubber spatula. Because I didn't turn on the dishwasher this morning, and I'm out of clean spoons. Shamelessly. And with VIGOR.

And I know what some of you are thinking.

"You know, Deana, if you'd just food prep a few meals on Sunday night, you'd feel a lot better and more energized during the week."

Oh, really? You don't say?

Well, let me stop you right there. Because you can just stuff your kale and carrots and lean ground turkey straight into your sassy little Whole 30 lovin', food preppin', crock pottin' mouths. I ain't trying to hear your health tips and fear for my sodium levels tonight. Satan be a carbohydrate, and I have welcomed him lovingly into the darkness of my heart.

So you can put THAT in your Mason jar salad and smoke it.

Do not judge me. I mean at least it's not store brand shells and cheese I'm shoveling into my face.  I'm not some kind of damn animal. I do retain a few standards even in my troubling times.

I needed some comfort and it's spelled V-E-L-V-E-E-T-A.

AND I ate an old gummy vitamin chew for dessert. Because health. And minerals.

Let me live, y'all.

Let.

 Me.

Live.