For as long as I can remember (which, judging by recent entries, isn’t all that long, admittedly) I have been slow.  And by slow I mean “not fast.”  And this is a source of deep-seated shame.  “Slow” is a four letter word.  In today’s society, and even before that, “fast” is valued much more highly, despite also being a four letter word.

I remember as early as kindergarten, my teacher, Mrs. Lord (an apt name for an authority figure) said to me, “You’re slow as molasses in January” after I failed to finish my snack time cookies and milk within 10 minutes of everyone else in the class.  At the time, I didn’t even know what molasses was, but I knew from her tone that it was a bad substance/person/machine that apparently didn’t like winter.   Today, that chiding would probably be cause for much indignation on the part of my parents, fretting for my tenuous hold on my self-esteem, not to mention concerns about my spiraling into obesity and would probably result in said authority figure being required to apologize to me and give me as many cookies as I wished.  Except today it wouldn’t be cookies, it would be gluten-free vegetable crackers, ironically sweetened with artisanal organic molasses.  Which, let’s face it, would take me twice as long to finish, which is why I’m really happy I’m not a child today.

But my point is, I recall this incident with a clarity usually reserved for major life events and near-death experiences.  And the implication it held has stayed with me, as all childhood life lessons:  being slow isn’t a desirable trait.   Think fast.  Act quickly.  Make a snap decision.  Finish first.  Win win win!

I exemplify few of these abilities.  I am deliberate. I am a plodding decision-maker, weighing all options to an excruciating degree.  I’ve never won a race of any kind. And I’m still the last to finish eating.  Actually, my title as World’s Slowest Eater was shared with my great-grandmother, until she went to that 24 hour buffet in the sky at the age of 100.  Since then, it’s only me.

Usually at the table by myself after all the other quicker eaters have moved on to recess.