Women are just wired that way, to go the extra mile. You know, "we can bring home the bacon, cook it up in a pan...". But I imagine there comes a time in every woman's life when they have had enough and cry Uncle. Today might be that day. Dirty, exhausted & emotionally drained I am ignoring hints about dinner. At this particular moment I don't give a rat's ass if I never eat again. I feel I have eaten enough in the last fifteen years to last me a lifetime. Or at least the rest of mine. It's a rare feeling for me to not feel like eating, so for the hour or so that it lasts I am going to revel in it and dream of not eating and being a size 12 again. Cuz that's where I look and feel great. Okay, the one adult summer I had to take in my size 9 jeans was pretty awesome too, but I will never go back to that drug induced thinness. I have an athletic frame and as my ex Mother In Law used to say, I am precious but not delicate. I loved her - no really, we worked together for years and I had the highest respect for her and love her to this day. She just said it like it was.
Anyway, I think I need a hot shower more than a trip to the local taqueria. More sweat has escaped these pours in the last couple of weeks than in the last couple of years; since I stopped slaving over cafeteria sized food pans working at Open Heart Kitchen. Now that was satisfyingly hard labour.
But I digress. I am not going to be the one to go out, and really while he would appreciate it he doesn't expect it. It's just that I usually jump on the band wagon and offer to go when he starts making noises. Because I am wired to please. And maybe he does that passive aggressive thing unconsciously to trigger that response in me - don't know and don't care. All I care about is not feeling that special dirty, sticky, dusty, grimy feeling all over my poor aching body.
Shower and jammies and maybe a movie. What's the saying? Put a fork in me, I'm done?
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