BURN THE WITCH. BURN HER!

I feel like my life would have been better served having attended the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (as a witch, not a wizard) rather than The United States Naval Academy (as a midshipman, not a goat). I hate to rag on my Alma Mater, but the ability to cast spells and transfigurate would be way more useful to me than knowing the General Orders of the Sentry or being able to kill a man with my bare hands (which I have done on occasion as part of Seal Team 6-126). For example, I could have stopped all of my body weight (mid-fall) from landing squarely on my bum when I was rollerblading this morning simply by chanting: “ARRESTO MOMENTUM!” Instead, I know things like ‘Set Condition Circle Zebra’ and ‘Red Over Red, the Captain is Dead.’ I don’t even own a boat.

When I fall, it is equal parts embarrassing and a relief. I don’t really have to explain the embarrassing part except to elaborate that every time it happens I am in the middle of thinking, “I am sooo cute…” in my short shorts, high heels, tight jeans, etc. (It’s like I bring these things on myself, really.) The relief comes from being able to restart the clock, lengthening the time until my next fall or accident. But when Hermione Granger restarts the clock she actually gets to travel back through time. Life as a muggle can be so unfair.

I ended an era last Friday, sobbing through the last of the Harry Potter films; wailing as Severus Snape was violently murdered and then later (yes, this is a world of magic) confessed his love for the boy who lived. The crying I did at the Naval Academy was not quite as cathartic.

I think there is a little bit of magic in this life, though sometimes disguised. Lately, I have been unable to maintain any semblance of a diet. Obviously, this was some form of unconscious divinity, preparing me for the extra “cushioning” I so desperately needed during my fall this morning. It’s just that as a witch I could chant “LIPO-SUCTIONOUS” and instantly return to my ideal weight. As it stands, I am not allowed to eat anything but iceberg lettuce until September, when I will gather with my classmates for my Naval Academy reunion (since being skinny is the only thing I will have going for me). I mean, I still have some sequencing to work out for my Cold Fusion formula and my cure for cancer is still pending FDA approval. So until then, I’m relying on my looks to get me through unscathed. It’s just that if I could turn someone into a toad or even perform a cruciatus curse on just a couple of ever deserving tools, it’d be a lot cooler.

I think my clumsiness is perhaps due to an inner ear infection. The Navy doctors obviously missed this. The examiners at Hogwarts would have spotted and treated my major malfunction with a flick of their wrist, making me as graceful as a Veela. Harry Potter, I’m gonna miss you so much it hurts. Almost as much as my scraped palms and bruised tailbone.

“REPARO!”

Nope. Still hurts…