Aurora (my oldest daughter) says I'm a smidgeon bitter. I'm sure I don't have any idea what she was talking about. I mean, I simply made a small, non-combative comment....and she went and called me bitter. I don't think that was very nice...
Yesterday was one of those crazy-errand-days. You all know the ones, where you've put off 85 things that should have been done yesterday, and now you have no damn choice but to accomplish them all in one whopping marathon. I hate those days. Seriously...give me a choice of dental work or errands...I swear I'll go for the freaky dude in a mask. (who signs up to have their hands in people's mouths all day? Ewww...) I hhhhhaaaaatttttte errands. They make me crabby.
First stop was to Aurora's new ophthalmologist. Sure, I've been to the building before, but once...a year ago. Do I know where it is? Well, yes I do, by golly. But did I know exactly how to get there? Ummm....noooo....maybe not. It's not like I went 38 miles out of the way, or drove to the wrong city, or missed the zipcode entirely. I just didn't realize I needed to get off the highway at an exit that's pretty far north of the actual building. And by the time I realized there weren't any other options...I was whizzing right past the bastion of eye health...and smack into a whacked out part of downtown that has exactly NO direct route back to the stupid road I needed.
Errand Day: 1 Alicia: Big, fat, hairy ZERO.
Great. Fine. Fan-friggin'-tastic. Time to wind my way through twisty, non-directional, pointless roads, as I ever-so-successfully erode away my 'grace period' of I-might-actually-be-early-for-once! Early was OUT. I began to hope for same calendar day.
As I finally found my way to boulevards I knew were headed the right direction, we began to crusie through a rather snooty suburb of Columbus. Funny, this is by no means one of the nicest, or most expensive suburbs. But, it is definitely a high runner in the our body secretions don't smell mindset. You can't walk 6 feet down their streets without bumping into someone who can spout their lineage in perfect Days of Our Lives fashion, Why, my Father was the 2nd richest and by far the best known Fart Fancier that Madame Medusa has ever seen...
So here I am, running late, gamey from stress sweat, and most importantly for this particular tale...hungry and CRANKY, as I drive the streets of perfection. And that is when I saw them.
Joggers.
Oh, not sweaty, pudgy-so-you-know-they're-suffering-like-you joggers. Oh noooo-ooooo.... These were the never-had-6-oz-of-fat, wearing-expensive-shoes-and-running-couture joggers. You just knew chicki-babe's sports bra matched her sport underwear. And you double-dutch-dare knew they were all the best of the best that the best of the best sporting goods stores only carry in sizes 0-6. (because anyone over a size 6 doesn't deserve to live, much less marry, reproduce, or god-forbid...exercise) You just knew it...
The following conversation then took place with Aurora. I believe she judged me. Rather harsh of her, if you ask me.
Me: I want to trip them.
Aurora: What?!
Me: I...want....to....TRIP...them.
Aurora: Who?!
Me: The joggers.
Aurora. WHY?!
Me: Because they're judging me.
Aurora: Have you lost your mind? They're not judging you. They're running down the street. They don't even know you're in here!
Me: They're skinny. They're jogging. I don't see sweat. They're judging me.
Aurora: You are completely NUTS. Those people can't even see you! That's mean.
Me: I don't want to cause bodily harm. Nothing broken, no permanent damage. I just want to see them faceplant...once, OK mayyyybe twice...
Aurora: MOM! You would hurt somebody if you tripped them! Seriously, mom. You're weird.
Me: If they jogged past me on the road, they'd judge me. I'm a blob, they'd instantly categorize me as lazy and gross. Am I wrong?
Aurora: ...well....maybe....
Me: C'mon...you know I'm right.
Aurora: Mom, you're a tad bitter. They could be nice.
Me: They'd judge me and I want to trip them. I could be happy settling for just one. The really skinny chick. C'mon...just one pudgy little cankle in their path?
Aurora: Mom, I think you're a little bitter.
Me: Nah, I'm sweet. I've got too much chocolate back-logged in my butt.
She better watch out. If she keeps judging me, I've got plenty of chances to toss out one of my cankles...
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1 comment:
Oh Alicia....too funny! We may be kindred spirits! lol
I remember being 4 months pregnant with my daughter (and let's just say....ehem.....I was not exactly small before I became "with child", and well, I take that whole "eating for two" thing VERY seriously.....)
I had to stop at a maternity store to buy a pair of pants....I had an event or something I had to attend, and my one pair of maternity jeans were not gonna cut it! So, in the store, this itty-bitty-100-pounds-soaking-wet sales clerk stood, with this so-stink'n-adorable-itty-bitty baby bump.
Apparently, I have a thing for torture, as I asked her, "So, when are you due?" To which she answered, "Oh, I only have two more weeks to go! How about you?"
As I stood there, looking at my blubbery-giant-XLMaternity-ed self, answered, "15 months pregnant....somehow, I have the gestation period of a whale. Huh, who knew?"
Sigh.....I feel ya on the joggers though.
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