Compromising Positions

For all of us girl suckers who just want to be adored and taken care of by our man, Jason’s comment on yesterday’s post will get you all in a tizzy. He said,

“What occurred to me today is that no matter how bad a day I have had, my wife may have had it worse so I need to be on my best behavior when she gets home and make it comfortable for her.”

Is it just me or is this the true definition of love? When we stop focusing on ourselves and take a moment to think what someone else might need. Big time points, Jason. BIG.

So, we all know how supportive the runner-blogging-world is.  Case in point, I got a gift in the mail a couple of days ago from Ms. Emz. Just because. You know how I love those “just because” moments. When someone does something kind for you with no hope of personal gain. We all need to do one “just because” a day and things might be a bit brighter.

The gift was the famous I Want You to Want Tee from Punk Rock Racing:

Only, I’m not going to pretend to look near as good as Emz does in the shirt. Mostly because I don’t have that sweet belt buckle and I don’t have those long gorgeous legs.

I had to add a little something to make the shirt more legit for me:

So, here’s how it went yesterday when I wore the shirt. You knew there had to be a story, didn’t you? I’m nothing but a boring housewife without my stories.

First let me say, I don’t know how I always seem to find myself in compromising positions. It’s been this way my whole life. I go about my days, feeling pretty confident, then *BAM* I get reminded that I was put on this earth to be laughed at (in a good way).

There was the time I overflowed the toilet.

And, the time I fell off the treadmill.

Or, the time I crapped in a tree.

Don’t forget the time I wore the security tag.

And, there have been countless other incidents involving unexpected farts, a spontaneous puke all over my boyfriend’s bed after a night of imbibing (college), my bathing suit top falling off in front of my boyfriend’s family (different boyfriend).

If anything ever happens to Ken I’m going to have a hell of a time finding a date after this post. Unless you’re the type who goes for a woman who pukes on your bed, overflows your toilet then tops it off with a delicate fart.

Yesterday, I went to the gym and actually got on the bike for the first time since the injury. It was only 30 minutes, but it didn’t involve a pool and I was psyched. I got dressed again in my new shirt and headed to Starbucks because this is what I do after workouts as my prize. I was feeling pretty sassy, knowing everyone was checking out my shirt (fantasy world). I ordered my Grande Christmas Blend and headed over to add the cup of half and half that I always put in my coffee. I like to call it half and half with a splash of coffee.

As I stood there, I realized this.

Yeah, that’s right. My fly was open the whole time. Since I left the gym. Zoom in and you’ll see what I’m talking about. Someone should have yelled, “XYZ PDQ!” (examine your zipper, pretty darn quick) like they did in grade school.

It’s always a good lesson in humility to be me.

Funny thing was, later on I went to the groomer (because a one eyed, three legged dog with an erection problem needs to look good too), and the zipper was down again. I don’t seem to learn. I wish I could blame it on the pants, but they’re not those pants that that zipper that always falls down. It’s just me.

Keeping it in my pants,

SUAR

PS: I’m working on a very special water running video for you, so visit back.