I believe in going with my gut. That does not necessarily mean that I believe you should go with your gut; I don’t know your gut very well. But call it a woman’s intuition, or simply chalk it up to good instincts, I believe my gut is pretty reliable.
In fact, I remember a few instances where in which my gut saved my butt. During my high school years, it was cool to drink with your friends in the woods or in a park. I would thereby risk being caught by my parents, as well as the potential of a party getting out of hand and having the local police hit the scene. One summer night in particular, as I dressed to get ready to go to Spruce Park with a few friends, my gut spoke to me:
“Michelle, I think you should wear sneakers tonight.”
“But it’s the summer Gut, and I’m a girl. I like wearing my Old Navy flip flops when I’m out with my friends.”
“I know it’s not the cutest look, Michelle. But I’m telling you, go with your Nikes tonight.”
So I did. Sure enough, hours later, sirens rang in Spruce Park, and while my friends desperately tried to waddle away from the long arm of the law, I narrowly escaped, speedy on foot in my running shoes.
Another night, this time during my senior year of high school, my gut spoke to me again. It was after the Varsity Awards Ceremony at my high school, and my friends and I were feeling very proud of ourselves. Feeling worthy of celebration, we treated ourselves to a high-class party behind the dead end of Secatogue Avenue.
My gut called to me: “Michelle, I think you should drive tonight.”
“Drive?! But Gut, that means I can’t drink!”
“I know, Michelle. That’s quite bold of me to suggest, but trust me on this one.”
Recalling that night in Spruce Park, I decided to lay faith into my gut once more. Without fail, after being behind that dead end for what didn’t even seem like an hour, a bright flashlight shined and an angry officer of the law demanded that we remove ourselves and line up in the street so that he could write each of us tickets. Each of us besides one, anyway—my county police department provides a courtesy for the Designated Driver of a group in such a circumstance—I was the only one of my friends that night who did not need to explain anything to my parents, nor did I have to make a court appearance.
My gut would also go on to tell me to break my apprehension and attend Syracuse over the University of Michigan. Did my gut make the best call? We’ll never know, but I have great friends, great times and have been enjoying some success as well.
Ultimately, whether it’s bailing me out, or making a tough call, I believe in my gut.
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