I never grew out of playing in the mud.
Growing up I was never one of those girls who liked frilly dresses or barbies or princesses. I was the one who won the dirtiest kid award at my first grade picnic. Pretty sure my teacher just made that award up, but I was very proud.
Somehow I never grew out of it. Sure I like to look good for work or when I’m going out. But sometimes it’s just as fun to let the dirt fly. In high school, soccer offered ample opportunities for muddage and as my Mom will tell you, I did not let them go to waste. Photographic evidence will show my obsession with the Warrior Dash, a mud lover’s dream.
These days I almost always play on turf but yesterday we were on a grass field. And by grass I mean dirt with a few grassy patches. Since it’s not really a soccer game for me unless I get knocked down and do my patented roll-back-into-the-play maneuver, I was bound to get a little muddy. But by the comments from my teammates, you would think I was covered from head to toe. Let me just say, this is not my definition of dirty:
Now this is dirty.