Chubby Girl Running

May 7, 2011

Dear YMCA patron on the third elliptical machine from the far wall, situated directly behind my lard ass today,

           First, allow me to compliment your black socks... and your incredible self-control. When I randomly decided to bust into a jog on the treadmill in front of you, you managed to stay firmly astride your machine despite the wild shock waves that set my flabby behind to shaking like a Jell-O mold riding the spin cycle. If you laughed out loud, I didn't hear you (but then again, at the time Papa Roach was screaming in my ear: "say what you want/take your shots/you're setting me free with one more kick in the teeth") Perhaps it's that kid who lives inside my head, left over from a hundred anguished gym classes that was trying to tell me I'd die from running in front of people... but I had to shut her up today, so I bit the bullet and hammered on the speed button until it was run or be flung backwards into pile at your very feet, Ms. BlackTubesSocksandNikes... and run I did. For 3 whole minutes! My knees are very angry with me and my self esteem is conflicted. (On the one hand - I did it!! On the other - ACK! what a horrific feeling back there!) But you looked none the worse for wear as you casually avoided eye contact with me when I turned to dismount the machine. It occurred to me after my 3 minute foray into lunacy that you could be really messed up back there if you'd ever experienced an earthquake... I looked carefully while I grabbed a paper towel and disinfectant spray for signs of a PTSD episode, but you seemed composed and determined to keep climbing a hundred miles to nowhere with your textbook and your, ummm socks. On my way to collect the Tornado from karate class upstairs, I reasoned that the worst part of your gym visit today was still ahead of you, as I noticed Smelly Gym Guy headed for the machine right next to you - my silent advice was breathe shallowly and power through...


xo,
SassBob Jigglepants

Mama Says... Get This Book!

For Mother's Day, here's quick post about a book you must have if you are trying to be the best mother you can be to a little boy. If I were on the ball, I'd have had this posted yesterday, so you could read it on Mother's Day, but I was a bit busy - wiping bums, faces (different cloth), tables, floors, and the inside of a 20 year-old pop up camper that we're gutting and re-furbishing. I also had to feed people and play with them and yell at them to pick up socks. I was hiding in a tent with the Viking getting ready to ambush imaginary robots and "Black Knights." I was called upon to find all of the following: a box of 1/2" screws, Velcro, Liquid Nails, the Viking's sword, the Tornado's Pokemon cards and the right channel to enable to Wii to function. I read a few pages on my Nook, recovered the seat cushions for the pop-up, removed sand from heads, ears and two diapers and I killed 314 ants today... roughly. If your other name is "mom," your day was probably similar. I tried really hard to reflect on what my life as Mom means to me, today. But whatever it actually means to me - it just IS me... and maybe that's all I need to know right now. Every attempt at reflection was shattered by a request or "Check this out!" or a spill or something crawling...
So I got nothin'. And besides. I'm not sharing anything the mamas who read this have not already lived day after painfully delightful day. So I'll leave you with this:

Mama Says: A Book of Love for Mothers and Sons
is a gorgeous book with words and a message so simple and touching that it never fails to put a little lump in my throat. Each page illustration shows a mother and son from a different world culture, and the prose is written in that culture's language, as well as English.
The last sentence of this book is "I listened to what Mama said, and now I am a man."
Gets me every time...
Happy Mother's Day, mamas.