Someone said to me "I'm going to walk on glass - for charity, at the Hylton Hotel. Fancy it?" I was feeling particularly bass-assy at the time, so said why not.
My goodness... I found myself a couple of weeks later having afternoon tea and preparing to walk on flipping broken glass. As we were buttering our scones the tinkling sound of broken glass being tipped out of bins and onto a metal platform was fairly anxiety-provoking.
We had a very serious safety brief around spreading our weight out on our feet - like flat-footed elephants. And not stepping off the glass onto the floor until the nice lady wiped off the bits sticking to our feet!
As I waited in line, my palms sweaty, thinking that I was about to make a mistake. I did realise that nobody coming off the other end of the runway was bleeding, so that offered *some* reassurance. Was I going to be flat-footed enough? Was I going to be the one in the hospital that evening getting my feet sown back together?
Suddenly it was my turn. I was going to walk on fricken glass. Barefooted. Was I insane? I followed the instructions to a T (a first for me!). I was expecting pain, but none came. My hand reached out to the instructor's hand. And we were off!
When was the last time you were a proper badass?