Keeping things even
1:52 PM
The past two days have brought me a couple of variant experiences. Yesterday I met a strange man in a parking lot to sell him a mirror I had listed on Craigslist (an entirely different subject entirely. It's so strange to give my stuff to strangers. It's definitely a multi-leveled emotional journey. But not the topic of what I'm here to say today). He was very friendly, even invited me to his church, and was explaining to me how the mirror was for his teenage daughter. You know how teenagers are. . . . And then it came. He asked me if I had any teenagers. Wait, WHAT? I mean, I know I turned 30 recently and all, but TEENAGERS? REALLY? Of course I know it is biologically possible, but really? How could someone think I would be the parent of teenagers before I've even had one baby? Ridiculous. I tried to comfort myself with the fact that he had really only seen me from behind as I was struggling to finagle the mirror out of my car (does that mean I look wide as though I've given birth to many a child? Wo is me!) and so he really was just making conversation and not a judgment on my age. Sigh.
On the other end of the spectrum, today as Wonderman and I were getting into the car in the parking lot at Fry's, he mentioned to me that I should look up because "they" were waving at me. When I looked up, there was a minivan full of teenage boys, grinning and waving. And when I say "teenage," I don't mean 17-ish. I mean 13-14-ish. Not that that makes a huge difference. When I smiled at them, they fell into their boyish giggles and had to close the door to the minivan in embarrassment or to hide their swooning. Either they were instantly smitten by my intoxicating beauty or I had toilet paper stuck to me in some distractingly embarrassing way. As I found no toilet paper, I am forced to believe it was the first. So strange. One day being supposed the mother of multiple teenagers, the next being hit on by multiple teenagers.
ps - simply as an update to my previous post. almost immediately following the writing of said post, I went and did Jillian's 20 minutes. however, as I did it, the pain began to feel more like an injury and less like achy muscles, so I decided to take a few days off. I haven't done it since, and I feel great. I went to the gym yesterday with Wonderman and lifted weights and did my own cardio, and I'm just regular sore. You know, the kind of sore that makes it feel like slow-motion when you lift your arm to scratch your nose? That kind of sore. Anyway, Jillian may be the latest craze to sweep the nation, but I think I'll stick with being my own trainer and, as Jillian would say, phoning it in at the gym. So, if anyone wants to buy a discounted copy of Jillian's 30-Day Shred, just let me know.
On the other end of the spectrum, today as Wonderman and I were getting into the car in the parking lot at Fry's, he mentioned to me that I should look up because "they" were waving at me. When I looked up, there was a minivan full of teenage boys, grinning and waving. And when I say "teenage," I don't mean 17-ish. I mean 13-14-ish. Not that that makes a huge difference. When I smiled at them, they fell into their boyish giggles and had to close the door to the minivan in embarrassment or to hide their swooning. Either they were instantly smitten by my intoxicating beauty or I had toilet paper stuck to me in some distractingly embarrassing way. As I found no toilet paper, I am forced to believe it was the first. So strange. One day being supposed the mother of multiple teenagers, the next being hit on by multiple teenagers.
ps - simply as an update to my previous post. almost immediately following the writing of said post, I went and did Jillian's 20 minutes. however, as I did it, the pain began to feel more like an injury and less like achy muscles, so I decided to take a few days off. I haven't done it since, and I feel great. I went to the gym yesterday with Wonderman and lifted weights and did my own cardio, and I'm just regular sore. You know, the kind of sore that makes it feel like slow-motion when you lift your arm to scratch your nose? That kind of sore. Anyway, Jillian may be the latest craze to sweep the nation, but I think I'll stick with being my own trainer and, as Jillian would say, phoning it in at the gym. So, if anyone wants to buy a discounted copy of Jillian's 30-Day Shred, just let me know.
1 comments:
Good riddance to Jilian. Fear not, she's not sweeping NYC. And go with what the 14 yr old boys think. They know everything anyway, right?
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