Floatie

I am going to begin with a confession that seems to me to be startling less for its content than for the sheer number of similar stories that I have heard related among so many of my successful women friends. Prevalent as it is, it always surfaces abruptly, bobbing awkwardly as a lone yellow floatie in the public pool of our conversations.

My best friend just may be the Florida champ of floatie racing. Or she at least has the Cape Canaveral title. She pushed the flamingo floatie to the opposite end of the pool in record time. I come in a distant second, as usual. This, after my best efforts to use my ginormous floatie to bump her off course, splashing us both.