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Raised by Moogles

OH MY GOD IS THIS HOW BEING MISS AMERICA FEELS

OH MY GOD IS THIS HOW BEING MISS AMERICA FEELS

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Guys. Guys. Guysguysguys I GOT PROMOTED TO YELLOW BELT.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.

I didn't even go in to get tested today. I usually only go on Tuesdays, but I'd missed all last week and with new-old job starting up (oh, right, the people I temped for over Christmas want me back. Yay!) I might not get any more chances to go twice in one week. So I thought, 'okay, when I'm ready to try for my yellow belt in, uh, six months, I'll know what to expect.' So I somehow managed to get through class, I was extra clumsy and out of shape and just feeling like the worst little white belt in the WOOOOOOOORLD, when Sensei goes 'and this one's a surprise but we're promoting this person even though they weren't officially doing the testing, congratulations, [Moogle].'

...wait. WHAT

(It did occur to me that Sensei, having taken a fall not five minutes earlier, was suffering from a mild concussion that was affecting his judgement. I was too busy being giddy to care at the time though.)

I can't even begin to express how much this means to me, you guys. Between my issues and my history I've been half-convinced I was just always going to be lousy at this stuff. I mean, I'm still lousy, but, I'm slightly less lousy and I have a freaking piece of yellow cloth to prove it.

Right. Back to screaming.
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