The Amazon Ain’t Just a River in Egypt

I love cake. And bread. Surprise. I love all confections involving sugar, butter, and white flour.
You say gluten free!
I say murder most foul.

This is in direct opposition to my Halloween attire plan.

Pretty confident the effect will be identical.

Gal Gadot may have been five months pregnant at the time, but whether or not it was a green screen or superior goddess genetics, the fact is that of the two of us wearing that outfit I would be the one who appeared to be in her second trimester. So I’ve decided to “get fit.”
I’ve started running. And like my previous attempts at running, it is not as impressive as it sounds. BUT I am indeed doing it, which makes me proud. I do it early in the morning under cover of darkness. Cuz…it’s dark. And no one will see the suffering. There is a hill in my neighborhood that is the bane of my morning existence. I try to keep my eyes down most of the time, so I can’t see how much further I have to go, how much longer the burning will be, how many more prayers or cuss words I might have to say. Upon nearing the top I begin to glance up, to encourage myself. Almost there…
Ya know what’s not encouraging? A seven-foot T Rex skeleton eerily lit by dim streetlights, shadows thrown long and huge across the lawn, tiny ineffectual arms now large enough to petrify a person. Nope. Not encouraging. In fact, the opposite of encouraging. In fact, the sort of thing that makes a grown-ass woman pee herself a little in terror as she utters a silent scream and her heart nearly stops.
Not cool, Neighbors At The Top Of The Hill. The first week of September is an unacceptable time to scare the pee out of folks.
Conclusion: Nothing is worth this! I’d rather just accept the weak legs and squishy parts while enjoying general continence and my pride.

“For the night is dark and full of terrors.”

“Highly motivated to look my best as someone I am not.” That should be my next tattoo.
I am so motivated to look better than my normal self that I am willing to suffer. Why am I not willing to suffer to better other areas of my true self? I’m really mean sometimes. Quite judgmental. Very harsh. Extremely selfish. Fairly– Let’s move on. Ned Stark stole Jesus’ line. “Night is coming.” And it’s not Drogo I need to napalm my enemies. Cuz I’d be incinerating myself. Still, I am sorely tempted to make some High Valarian proclamations after demanding, somewhat deranged and for the 6th or 9th time, that certain teeth of certain small folk be brushed…

I definitely want to look better. I tell myself I want to be better. But when it comes to hard things, I will cut every corner I can.

Extra points if you know why none of the papers and books in this show have corners.

When I look at my calorie counter band on a hot day and see that the walk to and from school to get the kids has burned 200 calories it is a satisfaction akin to getting the boots I really really wanted but couldn’t afford–on sale for 80% off. Seeing the number on the scale go down after having a baby but still eating whatever I wanted was like cheating death. Getting over on the system is thrilling. It’s like drying a Lularoe item in the dryer and not being sad.
But on the things that really matter–loving my family the way they need to be loved, giving up the selfishness I have come to wear like Amazonian armor–there are no corners to cut. The selfishness is there. In the light. For all to see. For all who matter to see.
What’s the High Valarian for “self-absorbed jack-ass?”


Things that make me cry deep emotional tears that must be swallowed down quickly before my children get worried:
* When the incarcerated gorilla father in Sing breaks out of prison to go see his son play the piano and sing at the concert because he finally understands who his son really is.
* When Rapunzel, her true identity realized, is reunited with her parents in Tangled.
* When Moana is walking in slow motion toward the demon island woman, singing in a clear strong voice about how she knows who she really is.

Sense a pattern?

I know who I really am. But it’s not someone about whom Moana would sing a beautiful, clear-voiced song while slow-motion-purposefully-walking. It’s someone more along these lines:
Night is coming. Night is here. And all has been revealed like chubby thighs in a Wonder Woman outfit. I’ve gotten away with hiding exactly nothing. So now I guess I need some high intensity Light cast into the shadowy parts of my heart I’d rather not see on a daily basis. I need to blast that darkness into oblivion. Cook those thoughts and attitudes and decisions and memories in an open flame.

Dracarys, y’all.


3 thoughts on “The Amazon Ain’t Just a River in Egypt

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  1. The night IS dark and full of terrros. I finally fought with a corset I bought from waist shapers today in a feigned attempt at fighting my flab. I think it took me a good 20 minutes to get all of the hooks together, at which point I was huffing and puffing like I’d ran a mile and my carpal tunnel made my hands curl up like strange little crab pinchers. The most hilarious part of all this though is it made my boobs push way up where they should be and they were reminiscent of the Madonna cone bra. My son asked me what happened to my “you knows” because he said it looked like I had surgery! By the time 4pm rolled around, I was dying from the internal pressure of my own fat like a beached manatee and decided enough was enough. I’m glad I ordered two more in a bigger size because I want to be able to breathe. – Nicole

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