It's Good to be Me

Note: This is the post that didn't post....

I've been working on this for over two weeks.  I started a part-time job assisting a CAbi consultant (Best.  Job.  Ever.)  and dumped the shows on top of my already busy schedule.  Plus my laptop was in the shop and my computer access limited.  Gotta love Apple though for completing an $1,800 repair job on a cracked screen (my carelessness; and here I always assumed it would be the boys) for $0.00.  Yay Apple!  And then there was the whole not-posting fiasco, but...

Hold on...

As I was writing about how hard it's been to find time to write I was interrupted by my oldest barging into the room asking me to unknot his Boba Fett belt.  That took a good 2 minutes.  I turned back to the keyboard when my youngest pushed past Boba Fett yelling, "I wan' peanut bubber pretzels, MOM!  I WAN' peanut BUBBER pretzels!!"  I dished out the requested pretzels (after asking for a polite "please") and should now have approximately 7 minutes to complete the following story which took place over 14 days ago.

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So tonight I'm plugging away on the elliptical, the one where you also use your arms, when I become aware of the gorgeous girl next to me.  We are in front of a mirrored wall so it's inevitable I'll check her out and I'm impressed to see her machine is set on max resistance, but she's keeping pace with little ole me working out at half that (actually I believe my first thought was "holy f--k, are you kidding me?)  Now I really give her the once over, I mean, who is this woman?  I'm reassured to see she is, at least, red-faced and sweaty, but even so she's foxy--tall, thin, blonde, fantastic arms and shoulders--you know the type.  I feel like a short, flabby troll next to her.  But I crank up my resistance a few notches.

After a while, I sneak another peek.  Despite myself I'm kinda digging this chick who unknowingly inspired me.  No longer blinded by jealousy I view her more objectively.  She's beautiful, no doubt, but she's not perfect.  Her butt is on the flat side and there is not much going on up top either.  Suddenly, instead of feeling fat, I feel bootylicious.  I realize comparing us is like comparing a 1 and an 8; who is to say which is more aesthetically pleasing?  They are what they are.  She and I are both beautiful in our own ways.  So while my new friend robotically puffs aways next to me, I bop around, lip syncing my dorky heart out having a blast as confident and comfortable in my own skin as I've ever been.



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