I have recently (as in the past day or so) changed my definition of what it means to be young...
....being young means you can stay up until midnight on New Years Eve!
Something that at the age of thirty-something (higher thirties) I can no longer accomplish. How pathetic is that?
I overhead two teenage girls in the check out line at Target discussing their "like-oh-my-gosh-I-totally-can't-wait" New Years Eve plans...this was their conversation. Like, seriously:
Girl 1: "I seriously can't wait until Saturday, and...like, how perfect is it that New Years Eve is on a Saturday this year?"
Girl 2: "I know, right?!"
Girl 1: "I totally talked to Stephanie this morning and she said that she got a suite at Capital Plaza. How cool is that? I mean, how many people do you think we can fit? I think maybe we should book another room and try to get it on the same floor and then like if we have too many people in the suite we can party down the hall too. Eeek! I'm SO excited!"
Girl 2: "Totally. Book it. I mean seriously, this is going to be the best night of our lives!"
Girl 1: (flipping through Seventeen magazine) "Like seriously? They sell maternity clothes at Forever 21!"
Girl 2: "Duh, Teen Mom 2"
Did I sound like that at the age of sixteen? And hello???? Where are the parents?? Do they know that their daughters have booked a suite at the Capital Plaza Hotel? Furthermore, does the hotel know that they booked a suite for a cesspool of raging hormones???
It was overhearing that conversation that led me to reminiscing on some of my New Years Eve celebrations. It is really comical to reflect on my "Rock of Ages" so to speak...
Age sixteen: Sophomore year of high school. I was grounded (that was my life story growing up) for something I'm sure I did but tried to deny and my denial led me to an even harsher punishment. Being grounded on New Years Eve meant that I was free to babysit my little brother and my two little sisters while my parents went out to ring in the New Year. So I did what any normal (grounded) teenager with the most strict parents in the entire world would do....I snuck in the boy that I had been crushing on for the past year. Shawn...that was his name. He and his friend Jamie showed up to my parents house and I snuck them up the back staircase into my room (which at the time was in the attic, a remodeled area that was what every teen girl had ever dreamed of for her own personal space). My bestie, Nicole, was staying over with me, so she kept my siblings at bay by pushing a chair up against my bedroom door so they could not open the door and tattle on me. Of course all of that came to a head when my parents returned home after midnight and the house was a disaster, my brother and my two sisters were still awake and they immediately cried, "Betsy locked us out of her bedroom because she had people in there!" Yep...that bought me another two weeks punishment. HAPPY NEW YEAR!
Age twenty-one: Dude, I was twenty-one....bars! booze! boys! .....wait....nope. I was married and pregnant. Seriously. Five months along with my oldest son Hayden. I sat swollen and hormonal on the living room couch watching Dick Clark on the television, counting down the last minute of the year. A bag of Cheetos and a glass of root beer....HAPPY NEW YEAR!
Age twenty-two: I wasn't pregnant. I was divorced. End of story. (I did have a beautiful baby boy!) HAPPY NEW YEAR!
Age twenty-five: New hubby, six months pregnant, asleep by 9 pm. HAPPY NEW YEAR!
Age twenty-six: Still married (that was a big deal back then), a five year old, a six month old and....I was pregnant. Asleep by 9 pm. HAPPY NEW YEAR!
Age twenty-seven: Three boys under the age of six (two were infants) and a hottie husband. Asleep by 9 pm. HAPPY NEW YEAR!
....and every year since hottie hubby and I have celebrated New Years Eve family style....TONS of junk food, sodas, movies and games with our three BEAUTIFUL boys!!
And I wouldn't trade it for any suite at any hotel....ever.
HAPPY NEW YEAR!!
Friday, December 30, 2011
Sunday, December 11, 2011
A Christmas Story...The Best Gift Ever...
Every year as the holidays draw near I am reminded of the importance of family...
...not just the importance, but the blessings of having a family. A family of my own, three beautiful boys and an incredible husband (a hottie to boot!)...
Earlier in the day as I was sifting through photographs from Christmas years past, I came across a picture of my brother and me. I was eight, Cal had just turned four and we were sitting in front of the Christmas tree in the apartment that we lived in with our mother just after our parents had divorced. I was all dolled up in a Christmas green sweater, curls in my bob length hair tied back in a Christmas red bow and of course my GINORMOUS round glasses. Cal was dressed in a Christmas red sweater that had his name embroidered on the front, a mischievous grin painted across his face.
You wouldn't know it from the photograph alone, but there is a story unfolding before the twinkle in our eyes...
December 1982, my mother, my brother and I had recently moved into a row of apartments located on East McCarty Drive. A two level apartment, my brother and I shared a bedroom, Barbies on one side, Hot Wheels on the other. Of course, every now and then you would find my Ken doll underneath Cal's bed, tangled in sewing thread as if he were a hostage...one of Cal's many ways of irritating me. My mother was in the kitchen, cooking up a masterpiece for the man she had been dating and obviously fallen for...tonight would be the night that she would introduce my brother and me to this man that made her heart skip.
I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, hairbrush in hand, admiring the bouncy curls my mother had created in my hair. I was eight years old, convinced that I would be the next Shirley Temple...I smiled my best smile at my reflection and practiced my introduction, "It is very lovely to meet you, my name is Betsy, how do you do?" I stuck my hand out at the imaginary man...oh yes, I will definitely melt his heart. My brother came barreling in the bathroom, knocking the door against my body..."CAL!!!! GET OUT! I'M GETTING READY!!" Without hearing a word I've just said, Cal grabbed his toothbrush and began to squeeze the toothpaste, dropping clumps of the thick blue paste down the side of the cabinet. Throwing my hairbrush in a tizzy, I stomped out of the bathroom and stood at the top of the stairs, "Mooooooom, Cal is bothering me!!!" Certain that my mother was ignoring my tattling I decided to simply ignore my brother and finish getting ready.
I wasn't sure what to think about the events that are about to take place. My parents divorced a year earlier, sending my brother and me into a world of unknowns, confusion and fears. My mother and my brother and I had endured so much already, moving, new babysitters, rearranged schedules...and now my brother and I would soon meet a man that our mother had been spending quite a bit of time with. A man we could clearly see made her happy, which made us happy, but at the same time it was all so much for and eight year old and a four year old to take in and understand...
I met my mother in the kitchen, watching her gracefully move about. She hummed Christmas tunes and I remember wanting to be able to sing like my mother when I grew older...like a bird, so beautifully and with confidence. The apartment was filled with smells of chocolate meringue pie and cinnamon candles that burned throughout our tiny home. The Christmas tree was decorated with homemade ornaments from elementary Christmas parties, hand me down ornaments from my grandmother and twinkling white lights. A Christmas record crackled on the record player, holiday tunes sung by John Denver, Anne Murray and Olivia Newton-John. I sat down on the sofa, careful not to disturb the decorative pillows and whispered my introduction over and over until I felt it was perfected.
The doorbell rang. Butterflies began to flitter within my tummy, the little hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stood on end, excitement bubbling up into my throat...."He's here!!!" My mother floated into the front room, smoothing out her apron. She placed my small hand within hers and called up the stairs for my brother to come down. Cal came sliding down the stairs on his bottom and like a monkey he jumped in front of my mother and me and flung the front door open.
There stood my mother's prince...six feet four inches. He looked like a body builder, strong and lean. My mother beamed as she invited him in. "Betsy, Cal, this is Erwin." ...I extended my arm and reached for his hand, "Hello, my name is Betsy, it is very nice to meet you." Erwin smiled a warm smile and held my hand, "Hello Betsy, it is very nice to meet you too!" Cal hovered beside my mother's leg, his arms wrapped around her thigh..."And this is Cal" my mother said as she rustled his white blond hair. "Hello Cal, I'm Erwin." Cal scurried off towards the couch, jumping onto the cushions, sending the decorative pillows onto the floor...a show was about to unfold as he began to show off for this newly introduced individual!
Erwin held two wrapped gifts in his arms, "What are those?" my brother asked, "CAL!" I exclaimed, "that's so rude!" I flipped my hair, my best Pollyanna smile...Erwin sat down on the couch next to Cal and I walked over to stand beside. "These are gifts for you and your sister," Erwin handed a gift to Cal and the other to me. Without hesitation Cal ripped through the red wrappings to reveal a Dr. Sues book, "Horton Hears A Who"...tossing the book aside, Cal jumped from the couch and ran into the kitchen, wresting with a Doritos bag for a snack. I rolled my eyes, and carefully began to unwrap my gift. It was heavy and thick...the possibilities of what it might be were endless within my head...peeling back the scotch tape I slid my finger underneath the shimmering paper to reveal a children's dictionary...it must have weighed 25 pounds. "Oh thank you!" I beamed! (remember, I'm on my very best behavior here...naturally in my head I'm screaming, "WHAT?!!! A DICTIONARY??! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!!?) :)
My mother called my brother back into the front room, positioning us both in front of the Christmas tree, she placed our gifts within our hands and snapped several photographs...a memory captured forever.
Conversation began and I listened to my mother laugh and swoon over Erwin's stories. Remembering my mother's suggestions of politeness, I entered the kitchen to grab a plate of cookies to offer to Erwin. I reached up to the counter top to take the plate of goodies and saw an envelope. Curious, I grabbed the envelope and read the scribble on the front, "Cinderella"...it was for my mother from Erwin..."he loves her," I whispered to myself, thinking that one day I would have my own "Prince Charming."
....December 1982...the night that Cal and I would meet the man we would call father for years to come. A man that rescued my mother, and really my brother and me. A man that would love us as his own. He would teach us right from wrong, he would instill Faith within our hearts, he would encourage us to be the best, and he would become the biggest part of our lives, one memory at a time.
The ultimate Christmas gift...no, it wasn't "Horton Hears A Who" or a 25 pound children's dictionary...it was the gift of love, understanding, patience and protection. It was the gift of a father.
...not just the importance, but the blessings of having a family. A family of my own, three beautiful boys and an incredible husband (a hottie to boot!)...
Earlier in the day as I was sifting through photographs from Christmas years past, I came across a picture of my brother and me. I was eight, Cal had just turned four and we were sitting in front of the Christmas tree in the apartment that we lived in with our mother just after our parents had divorced. I was all dolled up in a Christmas green sweater, curls in my bob length hair tied back in a Christmas red bow and of course my GINORMOUS round glasses. Cal was dressed in a Christmas red sweater that had his name embroidered on the front, a mischievous grin painted across his face.
You wouldn't know it from the photograph alone, but there is a story unfolding before the twinkle in our eyes...
December 1982, my mother, my brother and I had recently moved into a row of apartments located on East McCarty Drive. A two level apartment, my brother and I shared a bedroom, Barbies on one side, Hot Wheels on the other. Of course, every now and then you would find my Ken doll underneath Cal's bed, tangled in sewing thread as if he were a hostage...one of Cal's many ways of irritating me. My mother was in the kitchen, cooking up a masterpiece for the man she had been dating and obviously fallen for...tonight would be the night that she would introduce my brother and me to this man that made her heart skip.
I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, hairbrush in hand, admiring the bouncy curls my mother had created in my hair. I was eight years old, convinced that I would be the next Shirley Temple...I smiled my best smile at my reflection and practiced my introduction, "It is very lovely to meet you, my name is Betsy, how do you do?" I stuck my hand out at the imaginary man...oh yes, I will definitely melt his heart. My brother came barreling in the bathroom, knocking the door against my body..."CAL!!!! GET OUT! I'M GETTING READY!!" Without hearing a word I've just said, Cal grabbed his toothbrush and began to squeeze the toothpaste, dropping clumps of the thick blue paste down the side of the cabinet. Throwing my hairbrush in a tizzy, I stomped out of the bathroom and stood at the top of the stairs, "Mooooooom, Cal is bothering me!!!" Certain that my mother was ignoring my tattling I decided to simply ignore my brother and finish getting ready.
I wasn't sure what to think about the events that are about to take place. My parents divorced a year earlier, sending my brother and me into a world of unknowns, confusion and fears. My mother and my brother and I had endured so much already, moving, new babysitters, rearranged schedules...and now my brother and I would soon meet a man that our mother had been spending quite a bit of time with. A man we could clearly see made her happy, which made us happy, but at the same time it was all so much for and eight year old and a four year old to take in and understand...
I met my mother in the kitchen, watching her gracefully move about. She hummed Christmas tunes and I remember wanting to be able to sing like my mother when I grew older...like a bird, so beautifully and with confidence. The apartment was filled with smells of chocolate meringue pie and cinnamon candles that burned throughout our tiny home. The Christmas tree was decorated with homemade ornaments from elementary Christmas parties, hand me down ornaments from my grandmother and twinkling white lights. A Christmas record crackled on the record player, holiday tunes sung by John Denver, Anne Murray and Olivia Newton-John. I sat down on the sofa, careful not to disturb the decorative pillows and whispered my introduction over and over until I felt it was perfected.
The doorbell rang. Butterflies began to flitter within my tummy, the little hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stood on end, excitement bubbling up into my throat...."He's here!!!" My mother floated into the front room, smoothing out her apron. She placed my small hand within hers and called up the stairs for my brother to come down. Cal came sliding down the stairs on his bottom and like a monkey he jumped in front of my mother and me and flung the front door open.
There stood my mother's prince...six feet four inches. He looked like a body builder, strong and lean. My mother beamed as she invited him in. "Betsy, Cal, this is Erwin." ...I extended my arm and reached for his hand, "Hello, my name is Betsy, it is very nice to meet you." Erwin smiled a warm smile and held my hand, "Hello Betsy, it is very nice to meet you too!" Cal hovered beside my mother's leg, his arms wrapped around her thigh..."And this is Cal" my mother said as she rustled his white blond hair. "Hello Cal, I'm Erwin." Cal scurried off towards the couch, jumping onto the cushions, sending the decorative pillows onto the floor...a show was about to unfold as he began to show off for this newly introduced individual!
Erwin held two wrapped gifts in his arms, "What are those?" my brother asked, "CAL!" I exclaimed, "that's so rude!" I flipped my hair, my best Pollyanna smile...Erwin sat down on the couch next to Cal and I walked over to stand beside. "These are gifts for you and your sister," Erwin handed a gift to Cal and the other to me. Without hesitation Cal ripped through the red wrappings to reveal a Dr. Sues book, "Horton Hears A Who"...tossing the book aside, Cal jumped from the couch and ran into the kitchen, wresting with a Doritos bag for a snack. I rolled my eyes, and carefully began to unwrap my gift. It was heavy and thick...the possibilities of what it might be were endless within my head...peeling back the scotch tape I slid my finger underneath the shimmering paper to reveal a children's dictionary...it must have weighed 25 pounds. "Oh thank you!" I beamed! (remember, I'm on my very best behavior here...naturally in my head I'm screaming, "WHAT?!!! A DICTIONARY??! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!!?) :)
My mother called my brother back into the front room, positioning us both in front of the Christmas tree, she placed our gifts within our hands and snapped several photographs...a memory captured forever.
Conversation began and I listened to my mother laugh and swoon over Erwin's stories. Remembering my mother's suggestions of politeness, I entered the kitchen to grab a plate of cookies to offer to Erwin. I reached up to the counter top to take the plate of goodies and saw an envelope. Curious, I grabbed the envelope and read the scribble on the front, "Cinderella"...it was for my mother from Erwin..."he loves her," I whispered to myself, thinking that one day I would have my own "Prince Charming."
....December 1982...the night that Cal and I would meet the man we would call father for years to come. A man that rescued my mother, and really my brother and me. A man that would love us as his own. He would teach us right from wrong, he would instill Faith within our hearts, he would encourage us to be the best, and he would become the biggest part of our lives, one memory at a time.
The ultimate Christmas gift...no, it wasn't "Horton Hears A Who" or a 25 pound children's dictionary...it was the gift of love, understanding, patience and protection. It was the gift of a father.
Obviously this isn't the photograph I refer to in the story,
my scanner isn't working, so I chose one that I already
had on file! It's the same year!
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
"Excuse me Mam' - O - Gram..."
Let me begin by saying that the following story could have happened to ANY one of you ladies that are reading this...
...I know that I am NOT alone in this...I am NOT oblivious to the obvious...I am NOT an idiot...
(at least that is what I am telling myself...)
I began my day yesterday with a dental appointment. I think all of you would agree that beginning the day at the dentist office is not the best way to begin a day, right? To add, I was having four (1, 2, 3, 4) cavities filled. *As a side note I would like to say that I am thirty-seven years old and I have NEVER, EVER had a cavity. Then last week I visit my dentist for an annual check up, and BAM! I have FOUR cavities.
Having four cavities filled (actually it's more like drilled, scrapped, poked, prodded, pinched, polished) required a "numbing" medication to be administered to the left side of both my bottom and top jaw. My lips felt fat, hot and tingly (at least the left half of my lips) and when I tried to talk, I sounded like a stroke victim. The entire left side of my face was numb...I couldn't feel a thing, and when I got into my car and looked in the overhead mirror, my left cheek was sagging...not only did I sound like a stroke victim, I looked like one too!
....I'm sharing with you about the dentist appointment because I need you to fully understand and vividly picture what I looked like, what I sounded like...what I felt like. And because I think (if you will agree) that I can somehow blame the numbing medication for the stupidity that I was about to display...
I left the dentist office and drove to my next doctor appointment, not really with a doctor at all, but an appointment for a mammogram. Doesn't my day just really stink so far?? I know, right!?!
...I was running a little late for my mammogram appointment so I was feeling flustered on top of feeling foolish with the left side of my face hanging, hot and tingly. I checked in with the receptionist, who gave me a clipboard and pen, asking me to fill out a "personal information" form. I sat in the cool leather chair, placed my Vera Bradly bag beside me and began to write...
...I know that I am NOT alone in this...I am NOT oblivious to the obvious...I am NOT an idiot...
(at least that is what I am telling myself...)
I began my day yesterday with a dental appointment. I think all of you would agree that beginning the day at the dentist office is not the best way to begin a day, right? To add, I was having four (1, 2, 3, 4) cavities filled. *As a side note I would like to say that I am thirty-seven years old and I have NEVER, EVER had a cavity. Then last week I visit my dentist for an annual check up, and BAM! I have FOUR cavities.
Having four cavities filled (actually it's more like drilled, scrapped, poked, prodded, pinched, polished) required a "numbing" medication to be administered to the left side of both my bottom and top jaw. My lips felt fat, hot and tingly (at least the left half of my lips) and when I tried to talk, I sounded like a stroke victim. The entire left side of my face was numb...I couldn't feel a thing, and when I got into my car and looked in the overhead mirror, my left cheek was sagging...not only did I sound like a stroke victim, I looked like one too!
....I'm sharing with you about the dentist appointment because I need you to fully understand and vividly picture what I looked like, what I sounded like...what I felt like. And because I think (if you will agree) that I can somehow blame the numbing medication for the stupidity that I was about to display...
I left the dentist office and drove to my next doctor appointment, not really with a doctor at all, but an appointment for a mammogram. Doesn't my day just really stink so far?? I know, right!?!
...I was running a little late for my mammogram appointment so I was feeling flustered on top of feeling foolish with the left side of my face hanging, hot and tingly. I checked in with the receptionist, who gave me a clipboard and pen, asking me to fill out a "personal information" form. I sat in the cool leather chair, placed my Vera Bradly bag beside me and began to write...
"Ellyn Dudenhoeffer?" the mammogram technician called my name...
I stood, grabbed my bag and handing the clipboard over to the technician I followed her into the back room. I was guided to a dressing "stall" and the technician set out two wet wipes to wipe any and all lotion and deodorant from under my arms and around my breasts. She pointed to a pink (the official color for breast cancer awareness) hospital robe and said, (pay attention here) "Remove everything, opening goes in the front..."
Did you get that? Let me repeat what she said... "Remove everything, opening goes in the front..."
She left the stall and I began to undress....shirt, camisole, bra....dress pants, underwear (this is TRULY a miracle that I wore panties...I typically don't, but when I have doctor's appointments, I DO wear panties...because you never know....you just NEVER know).
...there I stood, naked as a jaybird...I grabbed the wet wipes, wiped the lotion and deodorant from under my arms and around my breasts and I slipped the pink hospital robe on, opening in front...
.....except the pink hospital robe wasn't a robe....it was a "top"....a sort of hospital gown that just stopped at the waist.
Well this can't be right....I was completely naked and the "robe" only covered my ta-ta's and some of my stomach...so I thought what ALL of you would have thought....she probably meant to say, "take off everything EXCEPT your panties" ....so I slipped my panties back on.
There I stood, underneath the fluorescent lighting, inside a 3 x 3 stall, freezing, wearing a pink "half" robe, opening in front, and panties.
Deep breath.
I exited the stall and walked into the dimly lit room where a large machine, undoubtedly invented by a man, stood.....waiting to poke, prod and SQUEEEEEEZE my breasts between two four inch plates of glass. I stood in silence as I waited for the technician to join me....
"Excuse me, mam?"
...I jumped a bit, started from the break in silence.
A man's voice.
I turned....and there stood a young man in a pair of dark green scrubs.
"Yes?" I responded
"Um, you can leave your pants and lower garments on..."
I looked down at my bare legs, purple and showcasing goosebumps from the cold air that was circulating...
...I didn't even bother to look back up....I was completely horrified. Of course....OF COURSE I can leave my lower garments on....because this is a mammogram....a test for your ta-ta's....this appointment has NOTHING to do with my lower region.....how. could. I. be. so. stupid?
I quietly slipped back into my stall and replaced my pants and shoes and then slipped back into the dimly lit room just in time to meet the technician who smiled at me and said, "okay, let's get started..."
Thursday, October 13, 2011
This Is Why I Just Wear Spanx...
Healthy living…it’s come up all around me lately. At the office we began a “Wellness Challenge,” three groups that are competing against one another in a weight loss competition – very similar to the “Biggest Loser” reality television show. Two weeks into the competition, I feel good about my eating habits (I’ve gone gluten free…although if I’m going to be real here, I must admit a cupcake or four) and I’ve even picked up a walking routine.
…Monday’s weigh in is quickly approaching and I really want to make my team proud, so I set my alarm this morning for 5:00 (by the way, anyone who wakes this early on a regular basis is a fool!) and with new tennis shoes, sassy workout pants and jacket, I made my way to the local YMCA!
Happy with myself that I was actually making an effort to be healthy and exercise, I unzipped my sassy pink jacket and hung it up on the coat rack (I didn’t want to get my sassy jacket sweaty). Full of new found energy I bounced over to the treadmill and placing both feet on the sides of the track, I began to push buttons…10 incline, 4.5 speed…..begin…..
….the track slowly began to move and I placed my feet in rhythm on the tread. Hurriedly unraveling my earphones that were connected to my IPod, my hands fumbled over the tangled mess and my IPod began to slip from my grasp. Catching the gadget in midair, one side of my earphones hit the track of the treadmill and was jammed….without thinking, I bent over to pull the wire free, lost my balance and began to slide backwards on the treadmill….hoping to gain balance, I lifted my right foot from the machine and placed in on the floor, only to have my left foot still dragging behind me, causing me to trip and fall flat on my rear.
Scarlet faced, I jumped up, looked around and gave that “Ha ha! I’m okay, no need to worry about me” look to the mass of people that saw the entire incident. I was totally over the treadmill…shame me one and screw you! So I sauntered over to the stationary bikes….seriously, what harm could I possibly do on a stationary bike?
Placing my rear in the seat, I adjusted the machine to fit my 5’9” frame and began to pedal. Within ten minutes I was really feeling the burn…it felt good….like fat was just melting off my body (gosh, if only that is how it worked). I decided to pick up the pace a little…I pedaled harder….my breath became deep and hard….sweat began dripping down my back and my forehead…..ahhhhhhhh….this was nice! My IPod was resting on the “shelf” of the bike and with my faster pedaling it began to shift and eventually it fell onto the floor causing my earphones to pull out of the devise.
…..without even thinking (because really, who would think this could happen?) I bent forward to pick up my IPod and SMACK!!!! …the pedal came spinning around and hit me in the face, creating a reaction in which I quickly raised my head up and hit the top of my head on the handle bar of the bike….
The lady next to me (witnessing the whole thing) gently said, “Ouch. That must have hurt!” ….as a side note, please don’t say anything to me when you have just watched me make a fool of myself and I’m in pain….it’s really irritating and makes me want to throw a wrench in the wheel of your stupid stationary bike, causing you to jolt to a sudden stop and possibly throw you off the dumb bike.
But I smiled and replied, “This is why I sleep in.” And with that, I grabbed my sassy jacket and holding my swollen, knotted head I left the building.
…Monday’s weigh in is quickly approaching and I really want to make my team proud, so I set my alarm this morning for 5:00 (by the way, anyone who wakes this early on a regular basis is a fool!) and with new tennis shoes, sassy workout pants and jacket, I made my way to the local YMCA!
Happy with myself that I was actually making an effort to be healthy and exercise, I unzipped my sassy pink jacket and hung it up on the coat rack (I didn’t want to get my sassy jacket sweaty). Full of new found energy I bounced over to the treadmill and placing both feet on the sides of the track, I began to push buttons…10 incline, 4.5 speed…..begin…..
….the track slowly began to move and I placed my feet in rhythm on the tread. Hurriedly unraveling my earphones that were connected to my IPod, my hands fumbled over the tangled mess and my IPod began to slip from my grasp. Catching the gadget in midair, one side of my earphones hit the track of the treadmill and was jammed….without thinking, I bent over to pull the wire free, lost my balance and began to slide backwards on the treadmill….hoping to gain balance, I lifted my right foot from the machine and placed in on the floor, only to have my left foot still dragging behind me, causing me to trip and fall flat on my rear.
Scarlet faced, I jumped up, looked around and gave that “Ha ha! I’m okay, no need to worry about me” look to the mass of people that saw the entire incident. I was totally over the treadmill…shame me one and screw you! So I sauntered over to the stationary bikes….seriously, what harm could I possibly do on a stationary bike?
Placing my rear in the seat, I adjusted the machine to fit my 5’9” frame and began to pedal. Within ten minutes I was really feeling the burn…it felt good….like fat was just melting off my body (gosh, if only that is how it worked). I decided to pick up the pace a little…I pedaled harder….my breath became deep and hard….sweat began dripping down my back and my forehead…..ahhhhhhhh….this was nice! My IPod was resting on the “shelf” of the bike and with my faster pedaling it began to shift and eventually it fell onto the floor causing my earphones to pull out of the devise.
…..without even thinking (because really, who would think this could happen?) I bent forward to pick up my IPod and SMACK!!!! …the pedal came spinning around and hit me in the face, creating a reaction in which I quickly raised my head up and hit the top of my head on the handle bar of the bike….
The lady next to me (witnessing the whole thing) gently said, “Ouch. That must have hurt!” ….as a side note, please don’t say anything to me when you have just watched me make a fool of myself and I’m in pain….it’s really irritating and makes me want to throw a wrench in the wheel of your stupid stationary bike, causing you to jolt to a sudden stop and possibly throw you off the dumb bike.
But I smiled and replied, “This is why I sleep in.” And with that, I grabbed my sassy jacket and holding my swollen, knotted head I left the building.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Wordless Wednesday...
This is Sophia, she is my niece and I love her to the moon and back! I apologize for the blurriness of the video...she just couldn't stand still! :)
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