Sunday, February 7, 2010
I'm a filthy, criminal, leper.
My husband had a heart attack almost a year ago. So he quit smoking and began to eat lettuce and sticks. I am completely supportive of this change because I want to keep my husband, so, okay. I, on the other hand, could not be more unhealthy. I smoke. Shut. Your. Filthy. Mouth. Was my husbands heart attack not enough to make me stop? Apparently not. My father died of cancer. Still, not enough to make me stop.
So my husband has completely changed his lifestyle. I have not. I start my day the exact same way each morning. One piece of toast and a half a cup of orange juice. The only function that the toast and OJ serve is to line my stomach for the impending carnage. Two cups of coffee, followed by two Excedrin, followed by a medium Red Bull, followed by, a twelve pack of Coke throughout the day. For lunch, a piece of cheese and two more Excedrin with a Coke. Dinner, three spoons of rice and a croissant with a Coke. At bedtime, a Snickers bar washed down with a Coke. Right before I go get in my bed, I stand in the backyard and smoke a cigarette like a filthy, criminal, leper. There you have it. The day is done and I feel great.
So John gets approval from the heart doctor to workout so he joined a gym. He has a trainer. A person he gave money to in exchange for torture. Hey, give me the money. I've been torturing you for years for free.
So I'm standing outside, where I spend a better part of my day, smoking and eating a Snickers bar. I take a bite of my chocolate treat, a drink of Coke, a drag from my cigarette. John walks out in his 'workout clothes', eating a carrot. I am wearing 15 year old jeans and a Corona t-shirt. I look like a crack whore after a big weekend. He says, "Hey! On Valentines Day my trainer is having a bring your sweetie workout class! What do you think?! Great, right?" I look at him and take a drag of my cigarette and then I look behind me hoping he is talking to someone else. Not that I'm not going to be his 'sweetie' on Valentines Day, but are you really asking me to go to the gym? On Valentines Day? You know where else they're having a bring your sweetie party? Macy's.
How do you tell your husband that you don't want to go to the gym because they don't allow you to smoke in there? How do you say, for me it's smooth sailing physically? Now if the mental health community threw a bring your sweetie party, I would sign up. I've got to get out of this. He says if I loved him I would go to the gym for the lover class. I said, if you loved me, you wouldn't make me prove I love you by going to the lover class.
I miss the good old days. My youngest daughter has her birthday on Valentines Day. So somewhere in the day, I would bring my daughter in, stand her in front of him, point at her and say, "Happy Valentines Day." I mean, I gave him a human. How can you top that? A sweetie workout party at the gym? Have you completely lost your mind? I love my husband and I know he wants me to be healthy. But I'm afraid I'm like an old car. If you start to screw with things, it'll break down. I'm fine. I consume so much caffeine and cigarettes in a day that it is probably a felony. I like the way I live.
I have an idea for a sweetie party and it ain't at the gym my hot little friend. That's right! Potties heah!!!! (Pookie, Jersey Shore) Now THAT's a Valentines Day party. Me, you and an ice cold Coke.
Posted by Dina Kucera at 6:29 PM