Ah 2009...it will be nice to see the back of you.
These last 12 months have held joys and sorrows, highs and lows, single malts and blends.
I had plenty of great times with my posse, glorious mornings lakeside, alone with a croissant and latte, plays, operas, farmer's markets, galleries...idyllic really. And then I needed to buy clothes (insert "tires screeching" sound effect here).
For the first time EVAH in my life, I needed clothes in extra large. You know how changing room mirrors are rigged to make you look your worst? You should see how it makes your face look when it starts to crumble into a sob.
I shook myself together, took a deep breath, and said to myself,"Alright, it's extra large. Let's just make sure it fits well."
The article in question was a summer dress. It fit...ish. It was quite low cut and forced me to acknowledge 2 things, 1) my collar bone had disappeared and 2) the boobies that once stood at attention with a bright sunny "Hello Sailor!" attitude, now seemed as though they had dropped something on the floor and were intent on finding it. Then the length of the frock came into view - it came to just the end of my thighs and that's when I thought, "Odd. I don't recall glueing 2 dinner rolls to the inside of my knees."
This was not going well, so instead I thought some light trousers would be more suitable.
2 words - sausage casing.
When I finally found a pair that fit, they made...uh...the southern hemisphere if you will...seem...um...puffy. As though I had perhaps decided to bring along a sock and, seeing as there was no room in my bag, thought it best to roll it up and carry it along in my crotch. Won. Der. Ful.
I left the store and proceeded to get blindingly drunk at my local pub. When asked by a regular what the occasion was, I believe my pithy reply was,"Ackft oink." Seemed fitting...
Then there was the bike ride.
Thighs and ass squeezed into lycra biking shorts (ATTENTION:Lycra is a privilege, not a right!), a large t-shirt over all to hide the bundt-cakeishness of me spilling over the waist. The huffing started within 10 minutes, followed shortly thereafter by puffing. Gasping showed up a little later. I soldiered on and then...a hill.
Sweet baby Jeebus, how I hate hills. My weight combined with my inability to shift gears at the right time makes the mere thought of an incline anxiety inducing. I stood on my pedals, labourously ekeing...out...every...inch. Finally gave up and walked it up. That is the walk of shame. It happened many times that day. The friend I was with was patient and kind as he waited at the top of numerous hills that day. Had I had the energy, I would have killed him. But then, I would have no one to call the ambulance when my heart would (guarantee!) give out. He remains alive.
Those are only 2 of seemingly endless repetitions of the same theme, so you can well imagine how I feel about 2009. But wait...
Had it not been for those moments of WAAAH!!, it would not have brought me here, with the focus and drive to become the babe God surely intended me to be (just nod, Sir...)
Nor would it have brought me to you, today. And that's not such a bad year after all.
Tomorrow we're on our way. Hope you brought something nice to wear.
Happy New Year to you and all those you cherish. NOW MAKE SOME NOOOISE!
Lili LaLarge
PS-In case you're wondering, I will be staying in tonight. No one to kiss. And if you knew me, you'd understand the towering crime against humanity that truly is.
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