Have you ever returned to something you hadn’t done in a long time—something you were once very good at and really loved doing?
Something that just feels right? Something that gives you great pleasure?
I just did, and it felt DAMN GOOD.
(Get your minds out of the gutters, people. This was work-related.)
Back in the Saddle Again…
A few weeks ago, I was called in to teach my first class at the State College of Florida. The topic? Business Plan Research. Riveting, I know. The thought of standing in front of a room, wig precariously perched, attempting to impart wisdom for two whole hours, was…well, let's just say my anxiety had a field day. To add to this delightful pressure, I had a bonus audience of three fellow instructors and the department head, there to witness either my triumphant return—or my spectacular crash and burn.
But here’s the thing: it all just came back to me. The class was engaged, I easily tapped into my facilitation skills, and, to my relief, we actually had a great time learning about research. That's all there is to say about that. Back in the saddle, indeed. However, I discovered that I now have a new and super awesome public speaking tic that I now get to deal with: wig-related paranoia.
Picture this — I'm striding across the room with well-timed steps, gesturing animatedly throwing my body into it like an opera singer, and creating the most memorable flip charts you've ever seen in your life —but as I'm up there doing all that stuff I just said, I can feel my wig doing some type of little cha-cha-cha on my head. Well, not a little cha-cha-cha - a LOT of cha-cha-cha. (And for reference, wigs should definitely NOT cha-cha-cha.)
So I tug on it. Then I realize I tugged it over towards one side, so have to tug over the other side to even it out. Well, now that I did that, it got shifted backward. Double doo doo.
Panic set in. How could I yank my hairpiece back into its rightful place without everyone in the class noticing? Lord almighty, I was going to be outed right there on my first day! But I stayed calm, kept my head on straight, and used the cover of a group activity to duck behind my laptop for a quick, covert wig readjustment. Ahhh, back in place. Crisis averted. (Geez, so dramatic. I got bored of that story midway through telling it.)
POINT BEING: Find a way to do what you love. Use hyperbole in your stories; it really jazzes things up. And...people are much less observant about you than you think they are. Quit being so self-conscious.***
Speaking of Self-Conscious Wig Stuff…
Florida's spring training season recently brought me to a Yankees vs. Braves game, complete with fantastic seats and a handsome date. The crowd was buzzing, the night was beautiful, and I was having a great time. Then, midway through the third inning, a group of people took their seats directly behind us. Shortly after their arrival, I noticed something: my jaw was clenched, my shoulders were tight, and I was feeling "some-sort-of-way" about having them there.
At first, I chalked it up to the nonstop, alpha-male, chatter of the group of finance bros behind me. But then, as I sat there longer, I realized what was going on with me —I felt really exposed. I had never worn a wig in a stadium seating environment before. I was convinced they would notice my wig, with my head being right there so close to their beers and nachos.
But then I thought some more (yes, baseball is a slow game, and I had plenty of time for self-reflection). Why did I even care? Why did it matter if some guy behind me in a crowd—someone I’d never see again—noticed my wig?
I recognized it was just that annoying little friend, my ego, was up at bat again. I write these blog entries for the whole world to read so obvi I'm not trying to keep it a secret. So why do I care if one random person notices my wig? Friggen ego. I made a mental note to wear a baseball cap next time and move on with my life.
POINT BEING: Go back up to my first 'point being', highlight the last part, copy>paste.
Wait, What?
Oh my gosh, you guys. I literally just checked my publishing platform as I was writing that paragraph above and I’ve had over 2000 readers from 32 countries?! This is blowing my mind. I think I'm feeling a little verklempt right now. 🥹
Thank you. Seriously. To everyone who’s been on this weird, hairless journey with me—your support, your tough love, and yes, even the occasional man who bailed after I told them I was bald—you’ve all taught me so much about myself over these past 18 months.
Cue the Music…
(Yes, yes, I know, I’m wrapping it up, I'm tired of listening to myself as well.)
Whether it's 2 or 2000 readers, I’m just going to keep trying. Keep putting myself out there—both in the physical world in front of classes and out in stadiums, and in this digital one where I expose my thoughts rather than the state of my hairline. Writing this little “wiry” (my pet name for this “web-diary,” since I still have no idea what the word “blog” actually means) keeps my mind turning, my stomach churning, and my soul yearning to keep learning more about myself and this new way of experiencing the world around me. So you're stuck with me for a while longer.
In the meantime, I hope you all find your own saddle to get back on to. Hi ho, Hoes. 🐎
Now, off I go now to marvel at this data some more….🤓
Much love,
Kristina 🩷
***Later that week, my new boss, the department head, wrote me and said, "You were born to do this!" Yes, of course I was, duh. 💅🏻
****What I was NOT born to do was write. Someone teach me when to use a comma, a semicolon, a colon and a dash correctly, please.....
OMG it is so awesome that you just kept scrolling!! Here's some other stuff to look at:
Start reading my wiry from the beginning here, (IYKYK)
Figure out where you left off last time here...
Check out my Products page here,
...Or email me about how much you love my hyperbole: