If you spent four plus years training to run a little bobsled down a track going 90mph or more, in the bitter, biting cold, wouldn't you feel obligated to say to the designer of the aerodynamic suits "Hey. I know I'm an "athlete" and all, but my body isn't exactly sporting a six-pack or a rockhard butt that could be used as a ledge for the empties. This second-skin suit? Not flattering. I need the Spanx version, thank you very much."
It's just a crying shame that nobody thought of this BEFORE the games.....
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Boy Questions
Men, you've been warned. Today's post is about the female body. You enter at your own risk. If you post a comment that states "TMI", I will ban you from this post.
If you have a sensitive gag reflex, regardless of your sex, just say NO!
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
We had guests over tonight. And, per usual, we were running short of time because we cram everything in last minute. That meant showers were communal.
Me, Mike, and The Babe.
The boys started things well ahead of me, but decided to take their sweet time, so I had absolutely no choice but to jump in the middle of the action.
That's when I realized we are way.way.wwwwaaayyyy past the time I can shower with that boy.
He took one look at my breasts and asked "Why do they point down?"*
I just looked at Mike like "Wrong. This is just wrong." He was trying not to laugh.
Then I got another question. "Where do the babies come from?" Instead of tucking tail and running out of the shower, I calmly explained that babies come out from between a Mommy's legs. "OK. What about the pee-pee?" Another between the legs explanation.**
The final assault came just moments later when he piped up and said "They look like maracas." Then he launched into a humming version of "La Cucaracha", to compliment the fact that I have breasts that do a good imitation of an instrument that, when hung upside down, resembles the breasts of women from third-world countries who have never and will never wear a bra. Or a shirt, for that matter. The women who made National Geographic pornography for every teenage boy in America.
I am taking solace in the fact that, after seeing me in my current state of excess weight and lack of muscle, his future young, perfectly coifed/tanned/in-shape wife is going to look like a super-model times 1000.
*When recounting this honest question to the female portion of our dinner guests, she shared a story about a friend with a daughter. Both girls were in the shower and daughter asked "Mommy? When are my boobs going to get long like yours?" I have no idea what the response was, but had "Mommy" been me, the response would have been "When the Gravity Fairy comes to visit. Sometime soon after the Breast Feeding Fairy removes 95% of the volume of your breasts, leaving them looking like helium balloons three days after a birthday party."
**At least he didn't learn the way his brothers did: by accompanying me to my annual appointment and scooting down the side of the table for a look-see. You'd think after my oldest pulled this stunt I'd NEVER make that mistake again. You'd be wrong. Middle brother, though slightly less interested, did the exact same thing about a year later.
If you have a sensitive gag reflex, regardless of your sex, just say NO!
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
We had guests over tonight. And, per usual, we were running short of time because we cram everything in last minute. That meant showers were communal.
Me, Mike, and The Babe.
The boys started things well ahead of me, but decided to take their sweet time, so I had absolutely no choice but to jump in the middle of the action.
That's when I realized we are way.way.wwwwaaayyyy past the time I can shower with that boy.
He took one look at my breasts and asked "Why do they point down?"*
I just looked at Mike like "Wrong. This is just wrong." He was trying not to laugh.
Then I got another question. "Where do the babies come from?" Instead of tucking tail and running out of the shower, I calmly explained that babies come out from between a Mommy's legs. "OK. What about the pee-pee?" Another between the legs explanation.**
The final assault came just moments later when he piped up and said "They look like maracas." Then he launched into a humming version of "La Cucaracha", to compliment the fact that I have breasts that do a good imitation of an instrument that, when hung upside down, resembles the breasts of women from third-world countries who have never and will never wear a bra. Or a shirt, for that matter. The women who made National Geographic pornography for every teenage boy in America.
I am taking solace in the fact that, after seeing me in my current state of excess weight and lack of muscle, his future young, perfectly coifed/tanned/in-shape wife is going to look like a super-model times 1000.
*When recounting this honest question to the female portion of our dinner guests, she shared a story about a friend with a daughter. Both girls were in the shower and daughter asked "Mommy? When are my boobs going to get long like yours?" I have no idea what the response was, but had "Mommy" been me, the response would have been "When the Gravity Fairy comes to visit. Sometime soon after the Breast Feeding Fairy removes 95% of the volume of your breasts, leaving them looking like helium balloons three days after a birthday party."
**At least he didn't learn the way his brothers did: by accompanying me to my annual appointment and scooting down the side of the table for a look-see. You'd think after my oldest pulled this stunt I'd NEVER make that mistake again. You'd be wrong. Middle brother, though slightly less interested, did the exact same thing about a year later.
Monday, March 1, 2010
I've Given People Reason To Believe I'm Preggers
When you step on the scale and the number is the highest it has EVER been, save those fortunate times when you could blame the baby cooking in your uterus, you know it's time to get working.
Yes, readers. I'm about to go all Jillian Michael's on my body. And I'm positive this is going to make for some interesting, more-sarcastic-than-normal, blogging.
So stayed tuned. Tune in often. And bring your friends and your air-popped popcorn.
Since I figure I need to lose the equivalent of a toddler in weight, this is going to be a LONG process.
Yes, readers. I'm about to go all Jillian Michael's on my body. And I'm positive this is going to make for some interesting, more-sarcastic-than-normal, blogging.
So stayed tuned. Tune in often. And bring your friends and your air-popped popcorn.
Since I figure I need to lose the equivalent of a toddler in weight, this is going to be a LONG process.
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