I am secretly delighted.
I write to you from MY BED. It is the middle of the afternoon and I AM IN BED! OH blessed, blessed day! I am exeedingly grateful! For when I try to get up I cry out in agony!
"I am sorry mommy is hurt," I say. "I simply cannot clean after you. I cannot make dinner. I cannot fold and put away laundry. I cannot collect children from all over the neighborhood to fill my home, play with you, eat everything in sight and destroy my spotless house... So sorry....".
To myself I say, "I cannot apply make-up or blow dry my hair. I cannot run 6 miles. I cannot wear 4 inch heels to the grocery store. So sorry...".
To my husband I say, "Vigorous activity is not condusive to a back injury. So sorry...".
But I am NOT sorry. I LIE. Bold faced. I am pleased beyond measure.
And so I lay in my bed with a book and some tea and toast. I sigh and wiggle my toes. I look forward to American Idol tonight. I paint my nails and dream about wild ponies and Chanel handbags...
How did it happen, you ask? Perhaps you too might like to develop a rest inducing injury?
Monday morn found me at the gym. I wore my THUG tank and a red bandana so I might be taken seriously by the masses of sweaty, plate-pushing gorillas in my midst.
Monday is always LEG DAY. Squats. Walking barbell lunges. Leg extension. Dead lift.
AND THE OMINOUS LEG PRESS.
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| Leg Press: It's like giving birth. |
The leg press is an invaluable booty shaping machine. I can't do without it, however, when I climb in and place my feet high above my head I am humbled. It is a precarious position in which to find one's self.
I lower the weight toward my person until my legs touch my chest. FREEZE FRAME. Not flattering.
I then PUUUSSSHHH with all my might. I grit my teeth, scrunch my face, squeeze my muscles and try not to grunt aloud. Sexy, I know.
I push almost 400 lbs on that blessed contraption (eight plates total, for those of you who speak Meathead). I tell you this as a means of bragging and also that you might understand how I came to injure myself.
You know how people are always saying,
"Lift with your back! Don't lift with your LEGS!" ?
They are wrong.
I was rockin out to Eminem's ASS LIKE THAT, which always inspires me on Leg Day. I was so excited by the lyrics and images of a perfectly shaped backside, my form must have suffered.
Blessings come in all shapes and sizes.
A back injury for me means milking my family without shame.
They have brought me food, water, diet coke, fashion mags and PEACE. Ahhhhh.
"Please shut my door as you leave," I croak.
Then I smile broadly and take a nap.
PS Sucks when I gotta go potty though...
