Just Call Me Triangle

I ordered the cutest long cardigans from Chico’s.

Did I tell y’all I am a triangle shape?

Yeah.  I took this little internet “What Shape Are You” test to be able to be matched with their best fashions on the internet, and turned out to be a Triangle.  That's funny. I thought I was an hourglass. Not the 36-24-36 hourglass, but an hourglass on a lot bigger dimensional scale.

But, I digress.

Triangle.  And not the large shoulders, narrow hips version of the inverted triangle.

Think regular triangle here, people.  I mean, what the HECK?

This type of triangle.

That means I have a little head and a big butt.

Anyway, back to the original idea of this post.

The Long Cardigans.

From Chicos.

I got them in.  Tried them on.

And found there is a rectangle in my triangle.

Or, that’s what it looks like, when I put these on.

Of course, it doesn’t help that these cardigans are super thin.  And they have horizontal stripes.

That cut right across the rectangle that is my butt at the bottom of the triangle.

Yeah.

That would be me.  

Enter profanity right here.

Saturday, Finally! It's MY Day! Mine! All Mine!!

Today, on a Saturday that’s supposed to be mine, all mine, I went and worked out.  (Enter the pre-whine, you know, the one where I’m already starting to get sore, V’Lesha kicked my butt, etc.)

I went to get ThatManILove so we could deliver the jeep to get new tires at Discount Tire.    He went to the tire store, and I was to meet him there with Starbucks.  I drove to our local Starbucks, and it was so crowded the butt end of my Sequoia was sticking out into one of the busiest streets in Midland.  And then three! (3)...yeah,  one-two-three... different cars tried to hit me once I made it into the relative safety of the parking lot. 

I felt more safe when the butt end of my car was sticking out into the busy street.

I decided to abandon ship and get the heck out of there - obviously those people needed caffiene way more than I.

I had a brain wave, went to Barnes and Nobles, and was in and out of there with our drinks in less than 5 minutes.

Meanwhile, did I tell you Discount Tire was closed...for a party?  Don’t they know that I need tires?  And right now?  For a jeep that’s going to sit in the driveway for another week?  Abandon that plan, regroup for Monday.

Okay, if this is how this Saturday’s going to go, I believe I'm going to need a redo.

We load up in one vehicle.  Go to the post office, where we have to annually re-certify our identities to keep our post office box.  And there, we mail a package of goodies to the beautiful god-daughter.  When I get back into my truck, I realize I left out the coolest pair of tennis shoes!!

Off to Petsmart, for more doggy stuff.  And then to Sam’s Club, to stock up on drinks and Clif Bars for a customer’s fitness walk coming up next weekend. I really start to feel the soreness kick in while I’m walking the aisles of Sam’s Club. I saw a recliner in an aisle and wanted to collapse in it.  But I kept on keeping on.  I never thought we were going to get this stuff loaded.  I hope the customers will help me unload it, come Monday.  Full count:  300 Gatorades and waters, 240 Clif Bars.  I feel healthy - hope they do!

And then we stopped for lunch…at an establishment where the television was showing the 9-11 unveiling of the Memorial Wall for Flight 93.  It was beautiful.  And I cried.  Couldn't finish lunch, thinking of how brave those souls were.

Okay.  So now, back to MY weekend.  Just MINE.  You know, the one where I now nap, relax, take a jacuzzi bath, drink a glass of ThatManILove's best wine turn to the computer to input data for OUR taxes. 

That would be me.

Wait.  Is that the doorbell ringing? Grrrrrrr.

…to be continued.

Whiny Butt (okay, it's the week of the butt posts.)

My trainer you’ve gotta be getting tired of hearing about her laughed at me today.

Not sure if it was because I couldn’t do the freakin’ plank, whatever that is, (and I know what the celebrated plank is, believe me) or some-other awful thing she wanted me to contort and do, and by the way, do 20 repetitions each side. No wonder I'm falling down on the stupid toilet.  I swear it would be easier to wet my pants.

I told her, huffing and puffing and sweating like a hog running from a 55mph Polaris,  “I’m going to get better, I promise.”

And she said, “I know.”  In my head, I could hear a little sneer "bwahahaha, my pretty, I'm going to GET you!"

Me:  “I’ve gotta quit whining and just rope the hell up.”

She: “Girl.  You don’t whine at all.  I have one client that tells me no for 30 minutes of her workout.”

Me:  “No?  It’s an option? Seriously?”

She:  “I mean she tells me she’s not going to do the exercises I ask her to do...for about half of her hour.”

In my head: “Dang. I mean, what’s the freakin’ point of coming at all? That woman MUST be a bit** RICH.”