Why does fire season feel so good?
Today is a gorgeous, definitive October day. The sun is bright and warm, the air is a mix of Santa Ana hotness and hinting of the impending cold, and I swear the browning leaves give off a firey aura. I absolutely love days like today. Those who say California doesn't have seasons don't appreciate the subtle differences from month to month and Octobers' overwhelming uniqueness.
In high school I hated the Santa Anas (which were way stronger than in San Diego) for making spinning difficult and super painful, but at the same time loved October weather. October brought my birthday, Country Days, pumpkin everything and Halloween. Today I was reminded of Country Days- I think in all my childhood there were like 3 years I was not in the parade, thanks to extra curricular activities and one teacher picking me to represent our class by wearing a cardboard horse outfit- not only because of the weather but because of the fat bruise on my wrist.
Oh colorguard, how I loved you even though you abused me. Being a banner was a status symbol of sorts and you wore the 6-inch welts with pride. Banners required strength and determination- not only did you have to spin the heavy things over your head but you had to slam them against your arms, several times in a row, to make the sequins sparkle. It looked beautiful to spectators.
The fat bruise on my wrist today hardly hurts but looks disgusting. I wear this bruise, and the ones on my legs, with the same pride. They remind me that I'm active, I have a physically demanding job, even that I'm sorta clumsy, a trait that helps me laugh at myself. I grew up tomboy- I hated dresses, my best friends were boys, I played in dirt, rode my bike, tried to fix things, and begged my parents for remote control cars. I was even the only girl at my 7th birthday party. I finally figured out make-up in colorguard, didn't really get it down until college, and recently accepted that sometimes pink is a wearable color for clothes other than underwear. Even though I'm starting to come into adult/womanhood I still hold onto that little tomboy inside me; being cut and bruised from the day is a source of joy.
I take good care of my body from the inside- I eat well, take vitamins, run, usually get enough sleep, care for my skin and teeth, have yearly exams, and don't smoke or take any drugs besides a rare Tylenol. I enjoy myself, enjoy being alive and feeling pain and pleasure, and enjoy using every part of my body. And those cuts and bruises, which I always seem to have, I wear like a badge of honor.