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A big mouth causes problems
You
know, I have come to the brutal realization that throughout my life, my
big fat mouth has gotten me into the bulk of the troubles I have
experienced. Take, for example, when I was in sixth grade and had the
legs of a praying mantis, hair with the oil production of all the Middle
East, and glasses as thick as coke bottles, and I decided to tell all my
peers that I did indeed, have a boyfriend. It didn't go over like I
expected and I ended up having to bribe my neighbor boy, Jamie Yoder,
who was two years older than me and most assuredly had no romantic
interest in me (but that's a story for another day) to PRETEND to be my
boyfriend- at least until the heat died down from the whole big fat lie.
Or
how about the time when I was already pregnant (but didn't know it) and
sat at a baby shower, my face frozen in disgust over all the "poopy"
talk the moms were spouting, and announced, point-blank that "I was
NEVER going to have children." Imagine a pregnancy spent in hiding
and you pretty much have my first pregnancy. So you would think that
by now, I would be quicker to squelch the first words out of my mouth;
to weigh what I am going to say carefully, and not just blabber things
out.
You would think.
Wouldn't you?
So, when my friend Kathy, who I believe I have mentioned before ACTUALLY
LIKES EXERCISE (I know, it is so weird to me too) said that we should
start running three days a week, I initially said okay. After all,
hadn't I been complaining that the last ten pounds I wanted to lose were
STUCK and that nothing, no nothing seemed to budge those puppies? She
said that we could take the kids to school and run a mile or two, or
three (she is always pushing in that manner) in the morning
and still pay complete attention to our work. I said "okay"
and then, when she had to go out of town for a week on business, I
started to think about the horrors of running in the morning. First of
all, I hate to run. I really, really, REALLY hate it. I do it,
begrudgingly, at night with my hubby, but only because I can never
manage to keep away from that fudge topped brownie and I then feel so
guilty that I feel I have to work it off. Secondly, I am NOT a
morning person. I can sit at the computer, balance the checkbook, do
some writing, and maybe throw a load of laundry in the wash, but that's
about it. In short, the longer she was away, the more I came to realize
that I had spoken too quickly. Again.
When Kathy returned from her business trip, she mentioned the running
thing again. (This chick is obsessed with health, I tell you!) And then
I went and did it. I opened my big fat mouth again. "I don't think
I can run in the mornings." I stammered. "Why don't you see if
we can take a spinning class or something instead, three days a
week."
For those of you who don't know what spinning is, it is NOT what
Rumplestilskin did for the maiden in exchange for her first born child
in the fairy tale. No, no, my friends, this is no fairy tale at all- it
is brutal one hour stationary bike work-out of such a horrific level of
torture that I shudder now to even describe it. But back when I opened
my big fat mouth, I thought that a leisurely hour (as I envisioned it
then) of biking on a stationary bike would be much easier than a morning
run around my neighborhood.
When I offered the spinning alternative, Kathy looked me dead in the eye
and exacted a promise. "Are you SURE you will come with me to
spinning, if I find out when and where the classes are?"
"Of course." My worst feature (my mouth) replied; glib.
"No problem."
You know, in hindsight, I think that part of me really thought she'd
never check into it. That weeks, maybe months later, we'd still be
saying, "Let's go spinning sometime, shall we?" Certainly that
would have been the case if I had been the one left in charge of
finding the classes. But alas and alack for me, that was not the case
with Kathy. She had the information and was armed and ready to exercise
by the end of that day. "We'll go tomorrow." She said, and as
I hung up the phone I realized that once again, my gigantic,
over-zealous mouth had written a check that my body certainly did not
WANT to cash.
"Yeah."
I replied weakly, hoping for a sudden onset illness which would render
my mouth paralyzed, "see you tomorrow."
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