Meet Brooke - she’s the 17 year old overzealous lifeguard at your pool. Brooke may be spending her summer weekend nights getting drunk on the peach Schnapps at the back of her parents’ liquor cabinet, but during the days she’s drunk on power. She wields that whistle with the hair-trigger sensitivity of a sniper. Only 2 weeks into pool season and she has all the 11-and-under’s terrified to run. They all look like little power-walking Karens hustling their way around that pool. The other day one of the moms tried to sneak a bottle of champagne in her cooler for mimosas. She tried so hard to be discreet but the pop of the cork signaled VIOLATION. Brooke’s head swiveled to the side and she spotted the offending bottle, issuing a sharp “No glass”. Well, not sharp exactly. It was monotone like the way she orders “Walk” Or “No chicken fights” Or “Adult swim”. Like a bored 17 year old but yet there must be more to her. What light dances in the eyes behind those aviators? What secrets lie beneath that stern lifeguard poker face? The shrill squeal of her whistle is her calling card, and sunburned, stinging-eyed children coked up on popsicles are her flock. She will prevent aggressive dunking...sometimes. She will not let you dive, will not let you run, will not speak to anyone. No she does not babysit, stop asking. But with that killer tan, red bathing suit and a solemn countenance she is a beacon of strength and obedience. Thank you Lifeguard Brooke, you unsung hero! 🎖
Kate runs a thriving charity benefiting the homeless and somehow has time to be a doting mother to four children. And has her yoga certification. And no chin hairs....
This is the new Amy. This Amy would never have a gross refrigerator. She's not that kind of person. She's clean, organized and fresh. She feels sorry for the people with dirty fridge shelves and expired chicken stock boxes. She can't imagine having a 2 year old jar of pepperoncini peppers with mold on the inside of the lid. That's no way to live and Amy is glad she's the right kind of person. Yesterday Amy had two bags of clothes designated for Goodwill in her dining room corner. They'd been there for 2.5 months, eventually becoming invisible.
She slithers her way in and out of friend groups, wreaking havoc anywhere she can. She told you last week how much she admires you for not caring what you look like – she “just doesn’t feel right about leaving the house“ if she’s not completely put together.