I have a confession to make: I am actually much, much worse in person than I seem to be in this blog. I was rereading through some comments this morning and thought “wow, I do sound like a well-organized, intelligent, put together kind of person”. As I sit here, unwashed, downing my second cup of coffee, regretting the leftover birthday cake from my husband’s party that I ate for dinner last night.
I haven’t had a serious workout in several weeks due to a flu bug. I tried last week, hopping up confidently on a treadmill at the Y, but sent myself into a coughing fit that screamed “you should not be here”. I’m the reason you really should wipe off the machines at the gym. This morning I ignored my daughter’s early morning chatter while typing away at my plot driven, but skeleton thin novel. Nothing says good parenting like saying “uh-huh” three hundred times, all the while thinking, “Please for the love of humanity, make her stop”.
My husband and I have a minimalist relationship. We love and like each other and still can make the other laugh, but we also really like being alone. We problem solve and parent together, go on the occasional date night, but for the most part, we’re just going along until one of us dies. And that is the best case scenario. And I snore, so I spend a lot of time on the couch. It’s not the cute little whistle snore that would stop if he just pinched my nose shut. It’s the kind of snore that you shouldn’t get too close to, lest you get sucked into the vortex. Like a jet engine.
I tried to solve the snoring problem by getting my deviated septum fixed last year. It was also causing me to gasp, like a fish out of water when I started taekwondo sparring and had to wear a mouth guard. The surgery fixed the breathing issue, but the surgeon told me I’d need a lot more work to deal with the snoring and even then, it might not work. Apparently it’s a structural issue, so I’m okay with the snore. I also developed a greater understanding of prescription addiction. Percocet for my recovery was pure bliss. I liked everybody and didn’t care if anybody liked me. Thank goodness they gave me a limited prescription. I miss it.
If I had my druthers, I’d swear nonstop. I have an extremely filthy mouth and mind. I’ve had to pull back and learn some boundaries for my language, especially since my daughter went verbal. My husband rarely swears. He’s a Lutheran. My daughter has ratted me out on occasion and my husband will look at me with a cocked eyebrow. I protest, “What? Geez, it was only that one time!” It’s really hard to look like a decent person, when everyone around you is so much better behaved.
My Kindle is loaded with trashy novels and is password protected. That is my absolute favorite thing about an e-reader. Shame reading can be done with no one knowing. One minute I’m reading “he was pounding away, sweat running down his face”, my daughter walks in and with a quick button push, there’s a picture of Jane Austen on my reader and I’m mommy once again. Pure marketing genius. The stack of books on my reading table belies someone of ambition and high intellect. My Kindle belies a bit of a lowbrow pervert.
I have ugly feet, thanks to genetics and a lot of running. I’ve dyed my hair since I was 23 – another genetic gift, white hair for the women starting in our early twenties. I think some women look absolutely gorgeous with white hair. But I’m not brave on that front and am holding off a bit longer. I don’t wear makeup, mostly because I am lazy, have never been taught how to apply it properly and don’t like how it feels. I have freckles, which have never bothered me until I started getting older. Now every single one looks like potential melanoma.
After spending the year blogging and interacting with so many thoughtful and interesting bloggers, I decided to try a little more honesty and openness. Then, if readers stick around, it’s not because of a false front or theoretical lectures from the mount. It’s because there’s a connection with people, whether it be through a sense of humor or tribulations or just because reading about how much someone else sucks makes people feel better about themselves. Life is hard and we’re all swimming upstream. I’m the one swearing, with a great dye job and ugly feet. Hello!