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As many of you know, this year I was asked to lead a girls’ camp for my local church.  As many of you also know, I laughed when they asked me to do it a few months ago; I hated girls camp as a teenager.  So you can imagine my surprise in actually enjoying last week.  In the wilderness.  With teenagers.  And no cell phone reception.

I didn’t really know any of the girls very well, so I wondered how they would receive me.  By the end of the week I had been told that I’m cool, I’m skinny, and I look like I’m 19.  So perhaps I wouldn’t mind going next year for a self-esteem boost.

I think I won them over the first night when we had to do a skit for all the other campers and I volunteered to play the part of a flasher.  (Don’t worry, I wore clothes underneath the towel.  What kind of gal do you think I am?)  I ran on stage yelling, “I’m naked! I’m naked! I’m naked!”  and for some reason that left everyone laughing.  I guess you could say I’m gifted.

I grew up being envious of my brothers who got to attend camps that included things like water skiing and archery.  Mine included hair braiding and eating Tootsie Rolls.  Which is why I wanted to actually let the girls try building a fire and cooking and hiking and things.  Midway through the week I realized that perhaps it’s not so much about outdoor skills as bonding with one another in an electronics-free forum.  I mean, how can you not bond after playing a game that involves spelling your name with your rear end?

In other words, despite my reluctance to go, girls’ camp was actually a really great time, hair braiding and all.

Last week I had my first ever trapeze lesson.  That’s right: trapeze.  Why?  What inspired it?  Was it fun?  All very good questions.

Drawbacks: sore hands, sore body the following day (which is strange because it seemed so effortless when I did it), huge bruise behind the knee, and abs that hurt when I laughed for several days following.

But the sheer exhilaration was worth it.  Check out my awesome form below.

What’s that, you say?  Is that yours truly meeting the Jonas Brothers?  Why yes, it looks like it is.  Why?  Good question.  Am I fan?  Not really.  Up until a couple months ago I didn’t even know their names.  Now, thanks to several teen magazines, web sites and wikipedia I can confidently tell you several interesting tidbits about them.

But who cares about tidbits when you see a picture like this?

You see, I arranged for this little meeting.  I work for a non-profit organization for teenagers and, upon the recommendation of one of our volunteer ambassadors, approached the Jonas Brothers about doing something for our group.  And they said yes.  (I’m very convincing.)

They are very polite, well-spoken guys with great hair.  They strive to contribute and be good examples.  They even have their own charitable foundation.  Nick, the youngest (and biggest heartthrob, I have learned), has even talked about his experience with diabetes.

When it was our turn to meet with them  I was in charge of introducing our group.  I shook hands with each brother.  I had my photo taken with them.  We bonded.  And in a way, I feel guilty about it.  I mean, I’m not a big fan, it’s not a life-defining moment for me (cool, but not life defining), I’ve never dreamt of meeting or dating them, and I’m a good 6 inches taller than each one of them.

There is, however, one very nice perk: I am now the envy of every teenage girl.  As soon as we left the presence of the Jonas Brothers there were squeals and sighs and “oh my gosh!”es from every girl in the group.  I couldn’t have been more amused.

I don’t think there’s ever been a moment I was the envy of teenage girls, save for (perhaps) having good skin throughout my life.  If being on Oprah doesn’t get me major respect from teenage girls, then the Jonas Brothers definitely will.  Not that it matters.

I’ve just never understood idolizing pop stars.  Growing up I was barely aware of pop stars.  I liked lots of music, but never so much that I would just die if I met any of them.  I think I’d rather be my own favorite idol.  As Oscar Wilde wrote, “To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance.”

Knowing that teenagers envy me makes that somehow easier.