But that boy has a mouth on him sometimes and it’s a good thing he’s my son. Otherwise, things may have gotten ugly around here tonight.
Now, there is no way in hell I am getting into anything remotely close to a bikini this summer. No $&$%-ing way. That is not even a six month goal. That is like light years away.
But I do expect to drop a few pounds and so in my quest to get “healthier,” I have been hopping and stretching and just about hanging upside down from my ceiling fan as I watch and mimic fitness dvd’s which ALL portray super skinny, super perky, super blonde bitches bouncing around in clothing made from the same material they use to make panty hose. (WHY??????)
So tonight I tried a new video, featuring the hot Denise Austen, some soup cans (couldn’t find my weights…..hmmmmm…wonder why…..could it be that i bought them last year, tried them once, then “accidentally” chucked them into the depths of my storage closet………?) and a large blue fitness ball. She is plowing through this workout, and I am feeling the sweat drip from my forehead and the timer on the dvd is only on 2 minutes. Lord have mercy! So finally i feel like I am getting the hang of this thing and my loving son comes into the living room (note to self, lock EVERYONE in a bedroom while i workout) and glances at the television, then back at me, then at the television, then back at me.
“Mommy…..they have muscles on the tv show
………….but you don’t.”
Luckily my wise husband swooped him up and tossed him into the tub before I could throw my can of Dole’s Pineapple Tidbits at him, or possibly roll over him with my fabulous fitness ball.
Thank goodness i love this kid.
It’s enough to have peer pressure and Glamour magazine cover girls telling me that I am bulkier than a ten pound bag of potatoes. But my son???
Between that and having him tell everyone that he meets that I am thirty and older than his daddy…..
thank goodness i love this kid.
2 Replies to “it’s a good thing he’s my son”
You can pay him back when he brings his first girlfriend home!
Out of the mouths of babes. 😉
At least you don’t have a daughter. A daughter is brutely honest and very descriptive.