So, I participated in the Tour de Cure recently. It’s a bike ride with all proceeds benefitting the American Diabetes Foundation. It was hotter than the hinges of hell and I struggled with the last twenty miles. I had gone thirty-five miles but that was in the morning and as it crept past lunch the sun was blazing down mile after mile.
I came upon a large hill and started out quite optimistically. Half way up I realized I wasn’t going to make it. I also discovered that 3.7 mph is the exact speed you can go uphill without actually falling over onto the road. My legs were aching and my breath labored. “Screw it, I’m walking”, I yelled up to my cycling partner and proceeded to get off my bike.
Now y’all, let me make this crystal clear. I had trouble WALKING up this hill. My calves were sore and my hamstrings were tight. I had to stop a few times and refocus because the hill/mountain was winning the fight. Just when I thought I couldn’t be any more miserable, a car approached descending the hill up ahead of me. It was an old Pontiac Grand Lemans. I know this only because I wrapped one around a telephone pole when I was in college.
As it slowed down I could see three rural “gentlemen” inside. God knows I’m a sucker for a shirtless man driving a filthy car. As they approached me I offered them a weak smile. The driver manually rolled down his window and blurted, “get your fat ass back on your bike”!
Ahem. You sweet-talker you! It’s too bad I’m married because I’m guessing this dude is totally single. Anyway, the whole thing made me double over in laughter because 1. it was SO RUDE and 2. because my ass is NOT fat. Now, had he remarked about my muffin top that would have been way more accurate and somewhat insulting. Good grief.
So. You guys remember me joining the “meet-up groups” right? You know how they can post stuff online that’s supposed to be cool and interesting and empowering, right?
Here was my “meetup” for today. It was seemed interesting at first because of the tag line. It read “panty party” and I thought…hmm…weird. It got worse.
What? Seriously? Are you guys kidding? Let’s say I’ve been assaulted and more than likely violently raped. Guys, the teddy bears on my new panties aren’t going to make me turn a corner. I’m gonna need a “Silkwood” shower, a gallon of vodka, some Valium and probably around ten plus years of therapy. Whimsical panties? NOT SO FUCKING MUCH.
No assault victim is going to giggle/smile/chuckle/smirk after what she’s been through at some stupid panties from the clinic, trust me. Jesus. Staggeringly inappropriate says I.
But then again, I could be wrong. Either way, I’ve decided to decline that “party”.
What say you fellow readers?
We’ve finally got power back on after 3 days. I’ll be blogging/bitching about that tomorrow. Stay tuned!