When I was really little – somewhere between four and six years old, I would guess – I found my uncle’s old roller skates in our garage. My dad had held onto them from when he and my uncle were kids. They were legit old school roller skates. They looked like this:


The only difference being I don’t think they had leather straps. I think they had weird buckles on them.

Anyway, I saw them, and I got this feeling in my stomach. Like, YES, I will put those on, and I will be a roller skating genius. (I meant it when I said being a skating superstar has always been on my life’s to-do list…) It was as though I could just feel it in my bones. It’s hard to describe, but I think everyone has felt that way about something in life, if not many things.

It just felt right, you know?

So I put on the roller skates.

And I couldn’t even fucking stand up in them.

Within a few minutes, I had completely surrendered. I was on my back in the grass of our backyard, wishing for someone to just come and take the stupid skates off my feet. I felt so defeated, I couldn’t even sit up.

And I thought to myself, “What the fuck, brain? Heart? Guts? Who/whatever told me – made me feel certain – that I could roller skate? Why did you do that to me?”

And approximately 10 years later, I would do the exact same thing with rollerblades.

That time, I got about two houses down the street on the sidewalk before falling into the grass.

On the plus side, some random dudes who were at a party at said house told me I should come and have a beer with them.

I think I was 14.

And I was no badass. So I just went home. (Which probably took me 20 minutes, given my skating talent.)

After that second instance – and having flashbacks to childhood – I learned that just because it feels like you should be able to do something, that doesn’t mean you can just do it.

Which sucks.


P.S. For the record, that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop thinking I can roller skate. Because I’m gonna fucking do it one day. Plus, look how cute these are:


I am in love.