In Which We Ignore Armchair Psychology and Go For the Frosting

Mirror, Mirror, on the Wall……does this horse make my butt look small…?

Our relative sizes fuels my denial, so I can continue to use frosting for comfort. Who wouldn’t look small next to that engine? I’m not sure if I am sabotaging my desire to fatten up, or sabotaging my desire to slim down: I’m hitting the gym, as well as the frosting.

Now, we will bore you with a simile or an allegory. I can’t remember which is which:

A number of years ago, Shaun wandered out into our verdant backyard with a glass of iced tea, where she found me kneeling  next to a flower border, trowel in hand, smeared with dirt, and laughing like a lunatic.

For most people, this would be a signal it’s time to hear their mother calling. But Shaun is braver than most people.

“Do I want to know why you’re laughing?”, she says, sipping her tea.

“Yup”, I say, trying to contain giggles, absolutely convinced I’m SO FUNNY.

Shaun makes a rolling motion with her hand: continue.

“I just planted Ajuga next to Lambs Ears, in front of the Japanese anemones!!”  I double over in a new fit of laughter.

Shaun considers this.  ”And this is funny, because…?”

“They’re all invasive plants!”, I say.

I am bursting with pride at my evil genius. Sadly, most people do not understand Evil Geniuses.  Especially Evil Geniuses with garden trowels.

“So…they’re going to….what, exactly…?”, Shaun says.

“They’re gonna duke it out over who gets to grow where!”, I say, triumphantly.

I’m picturing tiny boxing gloves on Ajuga’s purple leaves. The sweet Lamb’s Ears, gloving up, scowling back, ready to punch.

I find the idea of plants fighting hysterically funny.

(I’m the only one who thinks this, but I’m sure you’ve already come to that conclusion.)

Okay,  back to our wandering sort-of-point:

Like the plants, the frosting and exercise are duking it out in my metabolism. At this point, the gym is my best offense.  I want the frosting.  Therefore I must go to the gym.

It all comes down needing two things: large sweat suits, and the ability to take Hudson with me wherever I go, so I can stand artfully next to him, creating the illusion I have not gained 10 pounds.

FYI? Hudson read my “sobbing” blog entry, and has been extremely cuddly and attentive (for Hudson).  He’s dropping his head for rubs, and looking pointedly at the area in which he is saddled up.

Hudson, carefully inspecting the brush to see if it is hiding a carrot, and “accidentally” hugging me during the process:

(We’re trying to find humor and hugs where we can, even if it’s a stretch!)