I had to look up how to spell consciousness.
Today, while dressing in the gym locker room after a workout, I realized it is time to pay closer attention when packing my gym bag. Previously "clean" was my criteria, but now I need to add, "undies not covered with bull dogs and hearts that Mother gave me years ago" if I expect to not feel self-conscious while dressing.
My chronological age is 34, according to my gym (and several tests), my body age is 29. I told Jeremy he is lucky to have such a young woman.
My gym says my body age COULD BE 19 if I take age evasive action. I said 19 wasn't a good year for me, no thanks. They didn't get the humor.
Friday Haiku:
How dare you
let go
I need your hands to walk
(mad props to Addie for melting down every time I stopped helping her walk this morning)
Your carrot slices
are not like Daddy's
Please try again
(that's a leftover from dinner last night)
I never thought I would see a day that I would wake at 5:57 am and think "Oh, good, I got to sleep in today."
I never thought I would see a day that I would say "We do NOT suck on our toes." to my older child (Addie has been a bad influence on her in this regard).
Trying to save the earth by using cloth grocery sacks doesn't do any good if the sacks are always at home when you are at the grocery.
Body age - 29; muscles feel like (after my strength training regimen this morning) - 82
I better call Jeremy and tell him how lucky I am to have a much younger man . . .
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3 comments:
Those were PJs not undies. And this the child who lived out of a laundry basket for all four years of high school.
You rock. So does your MOM!!!
To clarify Momma, I can tell the difference between undies and jammies. Don't make me get out my camera and post pictures . . . :)
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