I have a small but solid group of people in my corner.
People who look out for me and love me just the way I am. (And it’s reciprocated with my whole heart.)
People who shower me with kindness when I need it most and make gentle and sarcastic digs at me when they know I can take it enough to dish it back out.
The people in my corner sometimes change roles.
If this was a true boxing analogy (and not a Dirty Dancing one as the title suggests) these people would take turns holding the bucket and towel inside the ring after each round.
Sometimes someone inside the ring might go from being in the inner sanctum and a key part of my team to being one of the people sitting in the front row cheering me on. Trying to avoid the blood and gristle that comes flying out of the ring from time to time.
And sometimes I have a friend who might play the role of the girl in the skimpy bikini, suggestively shaking their hips as they signify that another round is about to begin.
(Oh yes, you know who you are.)
Sometimes I feel like I’ve been knocked out in the first round.
Other times I feel like I could “dance like a butterfly and sting like a bee”.
And sometimes I’m just a girl who carried a watermelon.