Wal Mart Urinal. Yeah, thats right.

Half way through a store the size of four football fields seem like a perfect time to need a potty. Planning isn’t hard wired into a three year old, so I will let it slide this time. So here were are cart derbying through shoppers to avoid a pee catastrophe. As we slide into home, I observe a disturbingly dirty cleaning cart blocking the Women’s restroom. At that point, I really looked around for someone that may have a great idea on what to do now. Hello, checker, what do you think of me letting him piss in the water fountain? My mind is racing and the pee is coming, so to avoid a smellier mom sweater I allow my three year old to brave the men’s room alone. I know….Jesus…I know but what the hell else was I suppose to do? So I stand close to the entrance and check in every 10 seconds. The 15th time I ask if he is okay..I hear this “Yeah mommy these urinals are cool and the same size as me”. Huh. Me in panic mode and you enjoying the scenery, lesson learned my small friend. Lesson learned.

Where did those come from?

Ummm if you haven’t taken a look at what is following you everywhere you go, I suggest you do so now. Your ass, my friend. Have you seen it in a while? Cause I had not and there are a few things to note: Why I looked so close? I have been working out for five weeks and expected to see small, tan, firm bottom. What I really saw? Dimples!!! Yes, you and I both thought they were reserved for adorable babies and squishy grandmas…well apparently not. What else was there? Weird freckles, stretch marks and some kind of double butt underneath that I have never seen on my body. How many fucking hours a day do I need to work out to aleviate the horrified feeling I have right now? No, really its a question I need to know the answer to.

How Did I End Up Caring About The Gym

I have apparently reached an age where instead of eating less and drinking more as a health plan, I need cardio and salads to feel in shape. Ugh…and feeling bad about smoking is a whole new concept for me. I really think there must be some subliminal messages in gyms that make you judge yourself for all the things you use to love about yourself. Somehow having a healthy heart, flat stomach and no muffin top is where its at and smoking with a large Red Bull in one hand is something to do in dark corners behind large dumpsters. I am torn between living healthy and being the person I have known for thirty years. Damn you age, you’re fucking with my plan.