Tuesday, July 9, 2013

Upside, Downside

90° heat is not a good time to misplace the cat brush. There are tufts of fur flying around the room seeking places to affix themselves, like my sweaty self, blech. The air conditioned bedroom in which I’m sequestered, organizing my getting-later-by-the-day tax documents is too hot for clothes even with the window unit. The missing boobies really do have an upside. I can sit here shirtless very comfortably, no girls jiggling around, getting in the way, no sweat underneath, no stuffing my sweaty parts into a bra and definitely no nip-slips although I worry about scar slips, it seems to me no one's supposed to see that, but maybe I'm wrong, I'm constantly hiking up my shirts, so it's not showing. Not an optimal situation, but there really are quite a few benefits, I can sleep comfortably on my stomach, I can trampoline without self-consciousness, all sorts of things. I am, however annoyed that every tankini top has built-in bras, underwire bras or dominant pleats. Anything called a mastectomy top has built in foam falsies with a corresponding high neck, hideous, yuck... that is just silly and uncomfortable.

I had the best of intentions the other night. As large one is counseloring away at camp and little dude is at his dad’s, I decided to take a break and go to the gym, I checked on-line and it said that they were open until 9p.m. on Saturday. I headed over at about 6 and lo and behold they were closed, I guess some people have better things to do on a Saturday night. I was so proud of myself for making myself go and they thwarted me. I stopped at the grocery store on the way home and bought lasagne and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s, talk about good intentions gone awry. I settled into the couch to watch t.v., with my pint of ice cream which I didn’t even bother to put in a bowl... I knew I was gonna eat the whole thing and I realized I’m a cliché. Lonely, middle aged woman eating pints of ice cream and then being horrified that clothes don’t fit. Not good, not good at all!

My goal for this week is to get to the gym three times, I want to get into a Monday, Wednesday, Friday routine which would be great, I’d feel great, my heart would be happy and healthy and I’d be lowering my chances of a recurrence, but it’s so damned time consuming. My workout takes about 1.25 to 1.5 hours, add in commute of 40 minutes round trip and that’s a good chunk of the child-free part of the day and pretty much everything else takes me longer than it used to.

The heat is aggravating my neuropathy and while I don’t notice it in my hands as much as my feet, I do notice how much slower I am at work, that I’m constantly dropping things  and fumbling... I’ve become a fumbler and a wobbler, and as for the feet, they’re not happy. My big toenails were a little too long and I stubbed my toe, which you do a lot when you can only partially feel your feet and my toenail bent back and snapped right off, impairing my pedicure situation. It seems a little too short to paint which is important because the trip has been booked! Yes indeedy, I am going to Mexico {Isle Mujeres} in a mere five weeks, I am so excited, I could cry, o.k., I did cry. I haven’t been this excited since I don’t know when. Downside, you stub your toes a lot, upside, it doesn’t hurt, cause the reason you’re stubbing your toe is because you can’t feel it.

My dear, dear, wonderful friend and gay husband, because he accidentally booked us the honeymoon package is treating me to this most amazing trip. He’s in the middle of a breakup which is really sad to me, but does have the upside of me getting him all to myself for a week {and it’s all about the upsides, right?} and he pointed out that if he were going with X, he’d have to spend 3x as much money just on himself, because X likes the luxe life. I’ve never quite experienced the luxe life, but damn, am I game. I’m grandpa in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang -- it’s the posh life for me. The place we’re going is gorgeous and cheap cause it’s August and I guess people don’t want to be in Mexico in August and the deals are amazing. I figure it will be hot everywhere and I’d rather be hot somewhere with ocean outside my door, crystal white sand and a jacuzzi on my balcony. And half-gay married for a week to boot what could be better?  In the time it took us to commit, the Regular room turned into a Deluxe room and then a Deluxe Suite for less and less money, I guess you have to hit that sweet spot of waiting until almost the last minute, but not the very last minute where you won't get a flight. I’ve known R since I was 18 and he was 20. We went to the same high school but didn’t know each other -- big school, different grades. My last summer at home my friend was dating his friend and so we were always at the same place at the same time and we became friends instantly, like seriously, motherfucking friends for life, instantly. I didn’t know he was gay at the time, always wondered why he wouldn't flirt with me, pompous little brat that I was, although really didn’t care, I was in it for the friend thing, we’re so much alike, it’d be like dating myself and that could be ugly. He was living in disguise as a dull as daisies, not meant to be, heterosexual, and pretty damned tortured at that, despite knowing his whole life he was gay, living an inauthentic life because he just plain didn’t want to be gay. He’d heard and seen what people say about gay people and there are so, so many things to be afraid of, and back then, no one was saying “it gets better.” This makes me angry, because when my friend finally came out of the closet and embraced his true self you could nearly see the burden lifted, he is such a happier person and he’s someone who deserves to be happy, I can’t think of a finer human being albeit, sorry for him, equally neurotic as I. I love this man more than I can say. We’ve never lived in the same city, but we have always kept in touch and visited although not as often as we could or should.

I’m beside myself with excitement. I’ve got my passport which I take out of the dresser drawer and caress regularly and have already had my first travel anxiety dream, but we’ll leave that for Dr. Freud... you know, missed the flight even though I was at the gate, they insisted I wasn’t, I guess I’d turned invisible, forgot to pack a suitcase and had to rush home, went to the wrong airport, and the airport was also a furniture store, go figure.

Here’s the best part though... it’s Whale Shark season down there... they swim in large pods close to the surface and are slow moving, so if we are lucky we will see them and swim with them because they’re gentle giants. I’ll get my chance to swim with the magical healing dolphins and there’s a turtle sanctuary and I’d suppose a margarita or two.

Yay for gay marriage!

Jonah is being a good sport, he asked a few times, “um, why are you going on vacation and I’m not?” and I just straight up told him “because you won’t swim and hate the beach and I need to spend a week swimming with the fishies, my soul needs it and you'd be bored silly.” “o.k.” he says, he gets it.

Don’t bother reading this if you don’t know the tune or love grandpa, it just isn’t worth it:
This is livin', this is style, this is elegance by the mile
Oh the posh posh traveling life, the traveling life for me
First cabin and captain's table regal company
Whenever I'm bored I travel abroad but ever so properly
Port out, starboard home, posh with a capital P-O-S-H, posh
The hands that hold the scepters, every head that holds a crown
They'll always give their all for me they'll never let me down
I'm on my way to far away tah tah and toodle-oo
And fare thee well, and Bon Voyage arrivederci too
O the posh posh traveling life, the traveling life for me
First cabin and captain's table regal company
Pardon the dust of the upper crust--fetch us a cup of tea
Port out, starboard home, posh with a capital P-O-S-H, posh

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