We’ve all had enough of the Covid 19 pandemic. Lockdowns, masks, travel restrictions, vaccine wars and toilet paper shortages have definitely taken their toll on the collective sanity. And while we’ve all tried to cope the best way we can… one woman has a slightly different method.
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Hmm.
I’ve been out of the loop lately. Are sun powered orgasms the new thing?
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I can’t honestly say solar vibrator ranks high on my global plague survival list, but then again… what do I know?
I’ve been known to pepper my speech with the occasional four letter word… but by far, the worst one to ever cross my lips was diet.
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I was a normal sized child, a small teenager and a slim but curvy young adult. 110 lbs when I married my husband, and though I would positively kill for that figure today? Nature got in the way.
I gained a little weight at 35, but no problem. I hardly noticed it.
I gained a little weight at 40, and okay.. maybe I went up a size (or two).
But then I had a hysterectomy at 52 and gained a whole lotta weight. Being forced into menopause wrecked me and my body was no longer my own. No matter what type of diet or exercise I tried, the weight stayed on.
Next up was Covid lockdown with my husband teleworking and me cooking 24/7, so yeah. Another 10lbs.
And if that wasn’t bad enough? I blew my knee out last October. Damaged my MCL and ended up with a deep root radial meniscal tear… the worst kind. The kind that doesn’t heal. The kind that keeps you off the treadmill and plonks you on the couch. 10 more pounds and I’ve just about lost the will to live. Yoga pants are my friend and my clothes are silently mocking me from the closet.
I’m tired.
Tired of being overweight.
Tired of Covid ruining our travel retirement plans.
Tired of killer knee pain every single day.
Tired of the ugliness in the world.
Tired of the political and cultural divide in this country.
But most of all?
I’m tired of diets.
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So to Hell with it. I’m happily married and don’t need to impress anyone. My health is good despite the ##lbs I’ve put on since I hit 50.
And I know it’s too early for Christmas…. ( Yes people, it’s too damned early! Shove that elf back in the closet. Or better yet, burn it. I hate that little bastard. ) but I may need to buy this ornament.
Remember the Covid piñata I bought for the Christmas in July party?
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It was a huge hit. Everyone got in the spirit and had ideas on where to hang it.
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Not wanting the contents to spill into the pool, I recommended a nearby tree.
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A little lower please.
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Blindfolds were acquired and the swinging began.
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Poor girl had no idea my evil husband was messing with her aim. She managed to knock the germ off its hanger but didn’t break it… so it was rehung and more turns were taken.
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The pre med boyfriend finally bashed it open … (although it was against someone’s car, oops!) and pandemic appropriate goodies spilled out.
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They were quickly scooped up and examined. At first people laughed, because how often do you have portable toilet paper in a piñata?
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But then everyone was stuffing their pockets for the next apocalyptic run on Charmin.
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The Covid ball?
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It looked rather like a dirty Pac Man and was claimed as well.
To be continued …
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Where there's only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous.
