Monday, January 05, 2009
Let Me Hear Your Body Talk
I ate my way through the state of Utah over the holidays. Fudge, ham, some crack corn puff thing Yna forced upon me, hamburgers, fries, fries with cheese, mints, chocolate birthday cake, ice cream, egg rolls, noodles with peanut butter sauce on them....as I said, I ate my way through the state of Utah. As such there are a few things my brain would like to discuss with my various body parts (yes, here we go again). Quick note about the picture, yes it is me and yes, I am drinking with both hands.
Mouth - I am hereby notifying you that you will not be stuffed full every two seconds as you were over the last 2 weeks, so stop asking or you won't like what I do shove in there.
Mouth - I am hereby notifying you that you will not be stuffed full every two seconds as you were over the last 2 weeks, so stop asking or you won't like what I do shove in there.
Thighs - I was this [ ] close to respecting you a couple of weeks ago, before the gluttony fest began. You're getting your comeuppance on the eliptical machine. Stop whining about the pain, you helped to bring this on yourself...don't think I haven't noticed the extra spreading you do when we sit down.
Boobs - Okay, let's face it, no one complains when you get bigger. However, I have another bone to pick with you. While I am aware the hormones from the new mirena are stronger than the old one, there is no reason for you to still be aching constantly. Enough already, you have awakened me from my slumber with your complaining on several occasions. I am going to have to start loading up on Tylenol PM just to sleep at night. I've actually considered hiring someone to follow you around and massage you constantly, for relief. I checked into it and I am pretty sure I could find someone with reasonable rates from Craig's List. My one and only requirement is that this person wash their hands after they use the restroom.
Stomach - I know it isn't all your fault - having those three, dear, sweet, cherubs (who are currently grounded for trashing the house in record time, yesterday) left you droopy and sad. I have started a fund to restore you to a resonable fascimile of your former glory. If all goes well, you'll be meeting wtih a surgeon late this year. In the meantime: for the love of God, suck it up and work with me here.
Ass - I'll admit, you've done some improvement back there, but, sigh, I dunno what I am going to do with you. When I catch a glimpse of you in the mirror the only thing I can think of is an alluvial fan. Maybe, the plastic surgeon will see you and throw in a free tune-up for you. Hope springs eternal.
That's it folks, vacation is over and the gravy train you were riding has come to an abrupt halt. Don't worry, you'll thank me for it later.
