1. I have just as many socks without feet (for under my elbow pads) as I have socks with feet.
2. My contact list on my phone reads like a call girl list. Sweet C, Strawberry Jam, etc.
3. If I go to an all night store, I am very likely to be handed pamphlets advising me how to escape from my abusive relationship.
4. My cats will always sniff my shoes after practice and make the “stinky face”.
5. It is quite possible that my neighbors think I’m a hooker. I walk out of the house at odd hours in panties, tights, knee high socks, and carrying a suitcase. (for my skates) Sometimes, when we have an event, I’m wearing hot pants and a corset, or a tutu, or some other mad get up. I come home after several hours limping and bow legged. They don’t let their children talk to me anymore…
6. I have to physically be stopped from treating the grocery store as my own personal derby track. Apparently hip checking in aisle 3 is not socially acceptable.
7. Hanging out with derby girls has made it so that I am, in general, no longer socially acceptable.
8. I have forgotten that “normal” people will not respond with the same amount of delight that I am used to when I pull my pants down in public and show them THE BIGGEST ASS BRUISE EVER.
9. Ditto for the bruises on my boobs.
10. When the people come to your door and asked whether or not you are saved, it’s apparently not OK to burst into a chorus of Uncle Leon and the Alibis, “Roller Derby Saved My Soul”.
11. My lawn will never be mowed in a timely manner again. (Until I learn how to mow in skates)
12. I own more pairs of tights than I do pants.
13. If someone grabs my ass at a bar, I don’t get pissed. I just assume it’s a derby girl. (If it’s not, I fully expect all my fellow girls to bring the pain)
14. I am far more comfortable touching strange girls on the butt than I ever thought I would be.
15. I care more about shiny bearings than I do about shiny jewels.
16. It’s a lot harder to get a black eye than movies and books lead you to believe.
17. Ditto for split lip.