Friday, 16 November 2012

A broken boob , Corey Hart and planning a wedding. Back to bed, say I.

 I'm a 40 yrs old teeney bopper.
Aaaand I'm getting married...again.

Yaaaay..oh, wait are you one of those religions who don't own a mirror?
'Cause lady, you is old.

As we all know, a wedding is all about who looks the best and who gives the best gifts.
Just like a marriage is all about who out lasts the other and gets the other's stuff.
(I started putting little red stickers on his stuff the minute I said 'what eva'" when he proposed.)

Unh unh unh...don't give me any of that romance and love crap.
If I want romance I'll get it where any normal girl does.
In the Fire Swamp amongst the Rodents of Unusual Size.
11 1/2 points for the person who doesn't know what movie that is from.

The frenchmen and I have been together for 16 years and raised two kids.
Romance for us is a day when I get his name straight or remember his birthday.
(You would think I would remember his birthday then wouldn't you?  Now myself, I have a birthday week and hell hath no fury if the world doesn't correspond with that.)
I'm sorry what were we talking about?
Oh, yes getting married.

Since a lot of the people who were at my first wedding will be at my second naturally they will be comparing how I looked then compared to no-..

"No, no Moi, they'll just be filled with love and well wishes and won't even noti-"
"Excuse me?"
"Really, most people go to weddings and they'd be hard pressed to tell you any details about what the bride even wor-"
" 7 "
"7 missing crystals on the left side of the dress and two minute spots of red clay on the right side of her 9 1/2 foot train. Plus she must have had extra deodorant on because some transferred to her dads tux when he walked her down the isle"
"By the way, is that part of the design of your shirt that you have two spots of deodorant on it and a missing button or should I not be pointing that out?
"...never mind Moi, go back to your story."
"Thank you"


Since the whole wedding day revolves around me and how I look I decided that certain lady parts needed to be spruced up a bit.

Just reread that last sentence and realized I sounded like I might be wearing a crotchless wedding dress...which we all know is reserved for the fourth wedding.
Hey, wedding dress wow factors get harder to achieve the more we wear them so a girls gotta do what a girls gotta do.

I decided to go to a personal trainer for just one day a week.
Being the competitive person I am I lied about how fit I am.
He used a lot of odd terms that I didn't understand like isotonic, fartlek training (*giggle* sorry!) and over training.
I being the brilliant person that I tell you all I am, just nodded along and did what ever he said.
He started telling me about a chest exercise involving lifting barbells when his phone rang.

"Go ahead Moi, start those chest exercises. I'll be done of this call in a minute."
"Alrighty then"
I stared at the barbell, then stared at my chest, shrugged and got to work.
" Yeah, dude, I totally powered out 25 reps of 275...JAZUSHCHRIST! IGOTTAGOMAN!
"What? You said it was an exercise for my chest so I just assumed..."
"How did you even get them to fold over like th- you know what, I don't really want to know?"

Needless to say I broke my boob.
Trainer boy tried to use fancy terms like pulled tendons, ligaments and mindless moron but to put it simply I broke my boob for a wedding dress.
It sounds kind of odd when I say it so with me being an 80's girl maybe I should put it into song.
See, I was born in the 70's but aside from wishing I was a boy for a year so I could ride Black Beauty('cause I'm guessing I thought the wee willy wanker had special powers for steering back then) I don't remember much about that decade.
The 80's though is burned into my memory.
Every breath I took went into squealing Stings name when he sang that famous song.

Young self -Mom, isn't that song romantic?
Mother to self- I think we will have to go over the whole psycho /stalker scenario again.
Self- Okay, but first I promised that man in the black van that I'd help him find his lost puppy.

When Morton Harkett from Aha, was trying to beat his way out of that cartoon stanza, my heart was in my throat aka my vajayjay, like the rest of you girls with our wind defying bangs.

What are you doing up there?
Just watching some videos, mom!
You're been looking at them for four hours now.
Mmmhmm...yup, you betcha yaaaa..ooooh yaaa.
(Coincidentally I started smoking at the same time)

And I got many a bruised forehead from wearing my sunglasses at night, ♪so I can, so I caaaan ♪, look as cool as Mr. Corey Hart.
"Beside that fact that I Corey, am awesomely cool for wearing my sunglasses at night, my willy wonka is this big!"

I tried to think what 80's iconic song would best fit my painful chesticle saga.
Of course Mr. Hart with his lovely pout (which I take as him saying 'Aww, poor Moi's chesticles")
was the winner. I may have changed a word or two but the tune is the same.

♪ I broke my boob last night, so I can, so I caaan, fit into a wedding dress I don't really want.
Iiiit's deceiving me.
Got my fat rolls tucked inside my v-ooops,
Iiiit's deceiving me.
I turn tothe mirror and saaaay♪

♪I can't masquerade as a bridal maid, oh-no
I'm forty yrs old
And my cherry hasn't been saved, oh- no
I don't remember
But it's been a while since I got laid, oh-no.♪

Okay, okay I am going to have to stop here as I'm supposed to be writing a short story for an anthology my writing group is doing.
Some other writers are doing poems or short stories, while as usual I'm asking the gaggle of writers if 'crotchless' is spelled properly.
I'm starting to think maybe something is wrong with the frenchmen for wanting to marry me.

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