Wednesday, May 04, 2005

Look at Me! I'm Young and Hot!

First, I must admit that I'm a shitty ass blogger. There. I've said it. No apologies, just me admitting that I suck at commitment. The fact I'm married blows my mind every day. I have never commited to anything in my whole life. My poor mother spent my entire childhood trying to find some new activity to sign me up for, because I'd try something for three to six months (whatever the duration of the activity was) and then decide that I didn't want to do it anymore because it bored me.

I eventually went through all the normal kids' activities like piano, ballet, gymnastics and softball and was soon relegated to activities like synchronized swimming and karate. And this is in the 80s, back when Karate, despite the success of the Ralph Macchio films, was really not that cool. Especially for a girl.

But I digress. The point is, the fact that I've accumulated 58 entries in my blog (I'm certain it's actually more than that, as the count has stated 58 entries for many of my previous entries, but for the sake of this argument, we'll claim that's it) is incredible. So those of you whining that I haven't posted since February 16th, well... Talk about seeing the glass half empty.

But anyway, let me catch all of you guys up for the past two and a half months. Basically I've just been gaining weight and fooling myself ever so often into thinking when all of my maternity clothes are dirty that I can still fit into my pre-preggers pants. And then of course, I'll discover that said pants won't go any higher than my knees and then drama ensues.

Last weekend, Sweetie Pie's cousin told me that I looked great. Which I was pleased with that compliment. But then she added that I looked thinner now than I did when I wasn't pregnant. I only calmed down once the Medical Examiner's office removed her body.

Now this is the mother of a two year old child. She should remember what it's like to slowly watch your feet disappear and to feel fat every day. So why in the world would she tell me that I was actually fatter before????

My midwife told me I should sign up for a water aerobics class. That it would be a great way for me to survive the Texas summers and that I would feel light and buoyant in the water. Which sounded really good. My city offered classes for low public prices on Tuesdays and Thursday mornings and not having very much work to do, I decided to sign up, despite the fact it would mean missing The View twice a week.

I was really excited that I'd get to wear my Old Navy maternity bathing suit, because it's really cute and flattering and once again, I think I may wear it for the rest of my life. I showed up for class feeling all sassy (and mildly trampy, since Sweetie Pie told me when I proudly modeled my swimsuit that it showed way too much cleavage causing me to shriek that I didn't have much selection in the maternity section) to the pool. As I stood awkwardly in the change room in my little turquoise polka dotted suit holding my towel identifiable by the embroidery of my name on it (made with love by my recently deceased grandmother), I began to notice that everyone around me was between the ages of 75 and 80. And I'm probably on the low end of the age thing. As I entered the pool, I realized that I was the only person under the age of 60 in this class. I began to feel very awkward. The instructor came up to introduce herself and immediately asked me if I had a "medical condition" she should be aware of. When I told her I was pregnant, she said she figured out as much, because everyone my age that shows up for this class always is. Well, that and the gut sticking out in front of me probably gave me away as well.

Anyway, a few of the great-grandmothers introduced themselves to me and I began to feel a little less nervous when the class began. The thing about my cute maternity swimsuit is I think it was designed to lounge by a pool in the shade and try to pick up a man to call the baby's father before the due date. Either way, it ain't made to flail around ungracefully like I did that day. Therefore, it wasn't five minutes into the class that I began having a Tara Reid boob moment, showing some nipple to the old hags and then showing them my attractive butt crack as my bottom of my tankini kept slipping as well.

But the fun part about taking an aerobics class with 80 year old women is that you can be the least fit person ever, you can still kick all of their butts. Therefore, I became that annoying 18 year old with the perfect tanned body that's always in the regular aerobics class yawning and chewing gum through it all while us normal women are red-faced, sweaty messes in our husbands oversized tee-shirts while they're in the thong.

And I have to say, the power of being more fit than all those women went straight to my head. I think I'll join the senior squash league next. I don't know how to play, but I'm sure as hell able to out run any of them. I wonder if the asthma association has marathons I can join too.

Love,

Catwoman.

1 comment:

Slinky said...

I love that you're back! Yay! And no tears or recriminations - pregnant women do whatever the hell they want. Or so I'm told. : )