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My Profile
Gift from Hil Part 2 - 2014-12-30
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12:20 p.m. - 2010-01-22
Wowzers. I think I just slept my way through the gym soreness. I can usually do that with hangovers. I'll partially wake up and some kind elf in my bod says, "You're going to feel like total crap, missy. Back to sleep you go!" I do and when I wake up all traces of overindulgence are gone. Okay, the physical manifestations, the empty wine bottles, overturned glassware, and clothing removed and festively strewn about the house on my way to bed still have to be dealt with. But at least I don't have to clean up sporting a 400lb head that's as sensitive to movement as a Richter scale. So it is with today's gym hangover. I woke up around 3:30am, uncomfortable as all get out. My overused and abused muscles quacking at me for my folly. Stayed up futzing around on the computer until the guys were up and gone then I went back to bed to sleep the sleep of the dead for 4 hours and POOF! All better. Nice. Also nice was Wolf's pleasure when I served him a big piece of birthday cake for breakfast this morning. He protested at first saying it was my cake, but I pointed to the acre of sheet cake and said if I ate the whole thing myself no gym workouts could save me, I'd be fat as a Macy's balloon, only not as floaty. That made him laugh. He ate up and promised he'd pack himself a nutritious lunch. All these years of preaching the gospel of a balanced diet have not gone unheard. The other reason Wolf initially objected to eating any of my leftover birthday cake was a story from my horrible youth he'd overheard me telling Mick. For my 17th birthday I'd bought myself a cake. (My mother had long ago decreed we girls were too fat to get birthday cakes. Not the real reason, she was just too cheap and nasty to bake or buy a cake.) Anyhow, sick of those miserable cake-less birthdays, I bought myself a lovely one at the bakery. I shared it that night with everyone, doing the candles myself, though Gidget did lead the others in a chorus of 'Happy Birthday'. After doling it out there was a largish piece left. I put it away in the fridge, never thinking it was necessary to call dibs on it, I'd bought the damn thing myself for MY birthday. Yeah, you're way ahead of me. The next day while I was at work those gavoons divided it up and ate every last crumb. When I got home from my shift at Burger King and found out the cake was gone I raised holy hell. Indifferent stares from the sisters and a lecture from my mother about how selfish I was. She really went to town on me, calling me every name she could think of, telling me what a burden I was and always had been, and now with this latest evidence of my lousy selfish character that she was wholly disgusted and I could forget about eating dinner at her table for the next week, it might teach me something. A hollow punishment at best, I rarely ate dinner at home anyhow, my work schedule put me at the BK Lounge over the dinner hour and I usually ate there if I could afford it. But you can see how it went at my mother's house. Never, ever a shred of decency or fairness. Wolf overheard that story and really took it to heart. The idea of others polishing off my birthday cake and me getting punished for sticking up for myself (and my rights to my own cake) really, really shook him up. He's heard me mention things about my miserable childhood here and there. I don't really like to go on about it with him, what a thing to do to a kid! Telling my son the truth about what my growing up years were like is about the same as me letting him watch a 'Saw' movie. Inappropriate and disturbing. But he was accidentally privy to the cake story and came to me in tears. I held him on my lap and we talked about it until he was calmer. But the way his face pinched up all distressed this morning over eating my birthday cake, oy. I am so right not to burden my sensitive son with my horrendous past. Feh. Be gone horrible childhood! Instead let us speak of the happy way all my aches and pains went away. And of knowing I can work my butt to the bone at the gym and not pay too heavy a price. Good deal. I'm more psyched than ever now. Even shared fairly with the guys, I'm going to have to work off all that leftover birthday cake, right? Right.
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