Indoor Girl

     So I went camping this weekend. And it totally reinforced a fact that I've always known but never really wanted to be true: that I'm an indoor girl.
     I don't know what movie I heard that from but it's always stuck with me. The main guy in the movie says it to the girl, like, "you're kind of an indoor girl" in an almost derogatory way and I've never forgotten it. Clearly because it totally describes me. If I had to choose between, 1) spending a weekend in a tent on an uncomfortable air mattress in the freezing cold and having to walk a mile to pee in a stinky outhouse with a mystery brown splotch on its floor or 2) spending a weekend in a warm hotel with a shower, tv, and bathroom just steps away and restaurants to eat in and shopping...
   Well I'd choose 2. All the way. No question. Done.
   Not that camping this past weekend didn't have its highlights, because it did. Sitting around the campfire, swimming in the lake, lounging at the beach... But as it started to rain on saturday evening, I soon caved to the insistently growing need to be warm and sleep in my own bed instead of shivering all night long and listening to coyotes howl away seemingly steps from my flimsy fabric domain.
     So even though I've tried to ignore the signs, to hide the fact from everyone I know, to delude myself, I'm finally coming clean.
     I'm an indoor girl. And I'm proud.