Being Me

I was going to come home and workout.

Because girlfriend loves the food, but the food doesn’t love the girlfriend.

…

Well maybe that’s a lie. Maybe it does love me. A little too much. It likes to hang around. On my belly. And my thighs. Dang you food! Can’t you give a girl a moment to breathe? Seriously I think we need a break.

…..

Hey look a cookie!

That was actually pretty much exactly how my afternoon went.

Observe:

April arrives home from work. Talks baby talk to the chickens. Makes weird noises at the dog that makes him hop around and wag his tail so fast his entire back end goes with it.

April changes into comfy clothes (read flannel pajama pants and T-shirt). April heads towards living room determined to work out. April has to walk through kitchen to get to living room. April sees chocolate cake sitting on the counter. April likes chocolate cake. You know what would go great with a piece of cake? Tea. Oh how April likes tea. Maybe a tea would be alright. With cake. And then before we know it April has devoured a huge very chocolaty piece of cake, and drank an over sized mug of green tea (we gotta keep it healthy all up in here) and is now residing in front of the computer reading her favourite blogs and scratching her big bulging belly that really could use a workout.

Dang.

I was so close. I blame you chocolate cake!

And then Hubby enters.

Hello Hubby.

Who doesn’t love a man with a baby goat? Even if he has a pouty lip….

He proceeds to talk about his day and then tries to get me to talk about mine. No thank you. Work stays at work. I ain’t bringing that garbage home to my sanctuary of sugar highs and belly scratching. Hubby talks about greenhouses. April’s interest is peaked with that. Hubby leaves. And then April licks the chocolate fudge icing, that thought it had escaped the original cake eating massacre, off her plate. No chocolate escapes from April!

And well here we are.

Still procrastinating about working out. Still sucking on the fork trying to get every last bit of icing off of it.

So…let’s talk! Tell me about yourself. Tell me your goals, aspirations, weird traits. Anything. Don’t make me work out!

I’ll start. I’m ridiculously awkward. I stutter and ramble and am really slow witted. Until you get to know me. Then all of that stuff stays the same, but you get the added bonus of me talking way. too. much.

I want a tattoo. I’m just not brave enough to book the appointment. I’m scared I won’t like it in 20 years, but I look at other people’s tattoos and think wow that looks awesome!

I eat everything (but we already knew that, didn’t we). Don’t think that when you’re out having a meal with me that your french fries are safe when you run to the bathroom. Because they ain’t. I WILL eat them. And I will enjoy them. And then I will scratch my large belly. It hangs over my belt now. I’m so proud.

This is probably a good time to say I don’t take a good picture. My face plus pictures = eeek!

I’m terrible at making friends. I think I have had maybe 6 friends my entire life. Some people can just walk into a room and people are drawn to them. They have that energy about them. I want that. My energy repels people. The social awkwardness is painful. Sometimes I get so bad that I have like an out of body experience and I’m looking down at myself yelling “you are such an idiot!”, but I just can’t stop. I stutter and trip over my words, and then I desperately try to get away and usually end up tripping over my own feet. And they aren’t even that big!

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I have little feet. I have always been fond of my feet. They were like the one thing on my body that I didn’t mind. Until my sister decided to make fun of my big toes. Like what the heck I can’t do anything about my toes. You gotta take that one up with God. But thanks for ruining my self esteem.

Remember back when Facebook first became a thing and you could fill it up with all the things about you. Ya I had quotes with all the different keyboard symbols at the beginning and end. That was in the time before emojis and you had to actually create something on the keyboard. What a different time that was. Anyways I had these deep quotes that I thought made me sound oh so sophisticated and then there was an area where you wrote about you. All the cool girls had “100 things about me”. I had 3 lines. They are still applicable today, and if I could find it in the dark resources of Facebook (bless you for hiding all that stuff I wrote as a depressed 15 year old) , I would make it totally see-able. But because it is hidden I’ll just tell you what it said: “I’m weird. I like my feet because they get me places. I’m negative and not very outgoing.”

How’s that for an about me?

Truth be told I like writing about how ridiculous I am. I like writing about the weird stuff that goes on around here. Yes I wish I was different sometimes, but then who would eat all the chocolate cake? We need more chocolate cake eaters in this world. We also need more people who write embarrassing blog posts about themselves instead of working out. Because those posts are my favourite ones. And every once and awhile you find someone just like you. Which is pretty awesome.

Now go forth and feel better about yourself. And enjoy your weekend. I’ll be here, probably still licking this plate.

Your turn. What’s weird about you?