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Monday, December 5, 2011

A walk: the Pee Man and the Cyclist

This semester has not been the best for my girlish figure.  I started strong with exercise and eating healthy meals then the filing in one of my teeth fell out.  My tooth got infected.  I got terribly sick.  Finally, I had root canal, and I got even sicker.  The first two months of the semester I spent ill.  I did not exercise, and I started drinking (the Chardonnay) to numb the pain.  When the tooth pain went away, I started eating to numb the pain of the cold the symptoms and deal with the stress. 
The semester will be officially over for me December 14th; it is the day I perform my last radio show. 
How much weight have I gained since August (the beginning of fall semester)?  I’d hazard a guess at maybe 15-20lbs.  I can still fit my clothes, but my jeans are tight, and I don’t want to wear tight clothes. 
What have I done to be healthy today? 
The morning did not start off well.  I was still pissed at my mother because of the conversation last night and the one a few days ago.  She does not want to listen.  I sent her an email telling her I am done talking to her.  Every time I speak with her, I feel like shit afterwards.  I’m done. 
Late in the morning, I walked for an hour.  It felt nice to move my body.  Plus, I did my favorite exercise, which is walking outside.  Sadly, while I was walking on the levee, I saw a young man who began to change his clothing in public.  He put a cigarette in his mouth, sat all his shit down, walked toward a tree and began to urinate in public.  I could not believe it.  As I walked by, I tried to look the other way.  Actually, I looked the other way.  I even put my hand up to cover my face.  He turned around and walked away from the tree towards me and said, “Good morning.”
I walked faster as I said, “Good morning.”   It had to be one of the most uncomfortable moments I’ve experienced so far this year. 
About twenty minutes later as I walked around the bend, the cyclist who always calls me “leather” appeared.  He stopped his bike and asked me, “How does it feel to be a mother in-law?”  I tilted my head from one side to the other like a puppy hearing a human make the guttural “aaahhhh” sound. 
“You’re not leather” he said.  I slightly shook my head left to right or right to left.  My eyes got big; I could feel them, and I know I had a goofy smile on my face.  I could not believe the cyclist was talking to me.   With a big smile, he continued “I’ve been calling you leather all this time.  You look like a woman I know who lives on the other side of the levee named leather.  Her son just got married.”
I smiled.  He said a bunch of other stuff, but I did not pay attention because I was checking out his body.  I was also in shock because this was the first time he ever stopped to talk to me.  The cyclist has a very nice figure.  He is extremely healthy! 
I told him, “it’s okay.”  Then I said something similar to “have a nice day” or “Merry Christmas.”  I cannot remember.  I’ve been drooling over the cyclist since summer 2010.  He smiled and spoke.  I don’t know what he said—remember I was in shock.  He got on his bike and road off.     

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