I'm still reeling from the comments graciously left by Paul Joannides, author of "Guide to Getting It On." Alas, I will put on my poker face and complain for you today about my latest irritation, affectionately named "The Bounce Factor."
Here's how this thing works. I am on a quest to have the less-than-ideal outside of me match my svelte, sexy inside being. I have begun walking and running again on a daily basis in effort to conquer the mom body with which I've been "blessed." This whole exercise deal has been great on a number of fronts (mental, creative, sex goddess wanna-be, and lastly health). However, it has been less than pleasurable on the real front of me. Really. The boobs.
I start out and get things pumping with my ganstas in my ear buds. When I get sick of walking, I switch to running. And therein lies the problem. After about 3.5 minutes, my boobs have smacked me in the chin and upper arm so many times, I have to stop or someone will accuse my husband of being a wife-beater. Oh, and the mams burn with all the fury of hell. Thus, the bounce factor is sabotaging my running effort (or, as in earlier grammar, "harshin' on my running buzz"). Shin splints? Fatigue? Whatever. It's the BOOBS that get me every time.
So do I commit to walking like my ass is on fire until the boobs go down? Or do I suck it up and continue running as my boobs make me look like a human pinata (much to the delight of teenage boys in the neighborhood)? I have yet to find the perfect bra solution to this situation, as even the best fitting sports bra has no elastic left by the time my first interval is over. HELP ME!!! I mean, can anyone relate???
Also, I will be attending a 90th birthday celebration in honor of Hubby's grandfather this weekend. We will be traveling to Mississippi for the festivities, so I will not be able to chat with you all until Sunday. Upon my return, I will probably have some pictures which will make you all question my values, but will be side-splittingly funny. Little Diva is still fighting a cough and crabbiness for which there is no solution (other than Motrin and a humidifier), so we'll see how this car ride goes. Keep your fingers crossed that no one makes us "TURN THIS CAR AROUND, YOUNG LADY!"
I wish you all (ya'll) a happy and safe weekend. Please pray that no one in the family ends up shot by celebration gunfire.