The Chosen One

When I was younger, I remember always being asked what my talents were.  It gave me so much anxiety because there was no set marker to gage my [endless] talents... I always knew I was a fuckin' unicorn, but it’s hard to convince a class of 7 year old children that you were a mythical horned creature without having a horn.  In my 30’s, not much has changed...until recently!

I spend a lot of time on the treadmill [at the gym].  Like most over-sized, over-priced gyms, there is a line up of treadmills ...flooded with trash.  The other day a guy on the treadmill in front of me was so pigeon toed, he made the birds of New York City jealous.  As I began my cool down, I unknowingly was now also walking pigeon toed!  Then it dawned on me of another time a hyper arm-swinger was walking beside me and suddenly noticed that I too was flailing my arms!  

It was like Jesus Christ himself shining down appointing me "The Chosen One"... I found my talent!  I have a gift of imitating anyones' walk!  -Or- I’m just one of those annoying people who go to London once and come back with an accent!  I don't quite know how this gift will enlighten my life, but either way, it’s just another bullet point on my resume of exceptional skills.  Take that my 7 year old self's peers!