I’ve been thinking a lot about comfort zones.

I’m sure it all started when I began this latest 9-5 working girl journey.

Working from home in your pajamas? Comfortable.

Putting on tights and heels and being at an office for the majority of the day? Less comfortable.

I hear you cackling in the back. For some people, this is not anxiety-inducing. For me, though, it is. And I own my anxiety. I’m managing marketing (and often flying by the seat of my pants) and managing curveballs (and often flying by the seat of my pants) and managing employees (and often flying by the seat of my pants)

Which is all hilarious because I almost never wear pants.

WHAT? It’s a comfort zone thing.

So, taking this job took me well outside my comfort zone, but I am loving it. It’s different, for sure, as I can no longer catch up on The Bachelor while I work. It’s interesting, for sure, learning about different people’s working styles. It’s embarrassing, for sure, getting locked out of the building and (once) almost crying during a meeting. It’s new, for sure, learning html and how to make a trigger video (see also: learning what a trigger video is).

But it’s empowering too.

Now if I could just get my entire office to stop using the word e-blast.

Because it just might be the very worst word of all time.

Yes, it’s worse than moist and ooze and panties.

YES IT IS.

So, comfort zones.

Emily, too, is probably one of the reasons comfort zones have been invading my thoughts. Seriously, thoughts, my drive to work is for Daf Yomi podcast shiurs, not thoughts.

She has now gotten accepted to every University she applied to.

Which means that I am going to be forced out of my comfort zone to let this little bird out of the nest.

But she, too, is going to have to LEAVE THE DAMN NEST. She’s going to get uncomfortable and make a decision. And then get uncomfortable and become a full-time-fancy Kinesiology student.

And then I went and watched Free Solo and now I can’t shake the idea that I would be an excellent rock climber. I mean, like, NOT in the crazy way where there are no ropes involved and you have to rely only on your core strength and your fingers and toes to keep you from falling off the side of a mountain. Have you seen my infant-sized fingers and toes?

(I mean, I barely have baby toes, they are, like, non existent, but in normal life, other than mild embarrassment at the nail salon, who the heck needs baby toes?)

(Oh, I know, free solo climbers)

So, no, I’ll take my rock climbing with a side order of many ropes and
carabiners and belay devices and all of the safety situations thank you very much.

I don’t know what it is, especially since watching Free Solo gave me a touch of PTSD, but the idea of climbing outside (and outside of that pesky comfort zone again) is very exciting to me. Mostly because if you know me it’s probably the most un-Ali Martell thing to exist.

I can just see people now. “WAIT CLIMBING A MOUNTAIN? YOU?! REALLY?”

And then came Purim.

A few weeks ago I was asked very casually, “So, you’ll read from the Megillah at the Women’s Megillah Reading?”

And because I have no ability to say no to things, I said yes.

But I didn’t realize that reading from the Megillah is NOT EASY. It requires a fair (huge) amount of memorization skills and musical ability and desire to drive your family absolutely bonkers by listening to a woman read your part of Perek 8 out loud over and over and over and over. (GOD BLESS THE JOFA APP).

There was a lot of sweat and tears involved (thankfully no blood) but, you guys, I DID IT. I got up and read from the Megillah in my Margot Tenenbaum costume that no one knew was a Margot Tenenbaum costume and ridiculous short, blond wig that everyone including my sister thought was my actual real hair because there are not enough Wes Anderson fans in my community.

Of course now I’m considering cutting off all of my hair.

Just another small step outside of my comfort zone.

Leap, actually.