That's me.  Not in the corner, but under the disco ball that hangs from our practice rink, wondering why this odd crop of circling girls don't wear lip gloss or tight jeans, or feather their hair with TUSH combs from back pockets.

We don't even care about flattering lighting: no flashes or shadows, just bright-ass glare that showcases every sweat bead--scratch that. 'Bead?' Every sweat pool that breaks into rivulets and streams down our faces, necks, backs, and both sets of cheeks. Disco-ball skating on a Friday night meant caring about how we looked, but the form we care about now is very different: it's functional. Perfecting a derby posture equates to strength on the track; economy of motion translates to speed; staying small means your pieces don't get smashed over if you take a fall. Good form means my head should be over my skates in this picture, not slightly in front of them, but I'm getting there.

I used to have this green velour shirt that I looked so good in at Ambassador Roller Rink when I was too young to be there. It went perfect with my dark Jordache.  We'd skate at the perfect speed for our hair to float breezily next to our faces and keep it out of the lip gloss, and any sweat close to breaching the surface meant time for a cigarette break.  What has freaked me out most about my derby gear is that the wrist guards get the stinkiest.  Weird, no?  It also turns out that even the best waterproof mascara is no match for derby-practice sweat.  And that I feel more comfortable in my skin walking out of practice than I do freshly made-up to go on stage.

I meant to write this about how we're learning whips, and how it's as fun as it sounds, but I just get all Mitch Albom-y when I write and it ends up Hallmark-y and personal. But hey, those whips?  OMG, so much fun!!!  Like, you totally get to go flying!  I just cracked up over and over at practice last night, speeding along like a little go-cart after being whipped; like how a kid can't help laughing on the swings or going down a slide sometimes.  It's just *fun!* Right in the tummy.  I cracked up so much by myself last night at practice.  The actual work of getting good skills--agility, skating, strength, etc.--is almostly wholly NOT FUN.  But we're just starting to learn what an invaluable ticket that work is buying us when it comes to playing the game.  Playing roller derby is fun, no doubt... but being GOOD at playing roller derby? Well, it's starting to feel like a obsessive craving, and I can see all of us working harder and harder all of a sudden.

Above, in that picture up there?  Under our beloved roller disco ball? That's me in the spotlight. Losing my inhibition.