Shew!
I just busted myself being majorly cruel. {Okay Valley girl. Majorly?}
Anyway. My kiddo wasn't feeling his best. We spent the day inside, lounging about watching (if I'm being honest) and excess of television. Slug time, people. Johnny, my husband, came home for his "lunch" (aka dinner) break. If I hadn't so fully committed to the day's laziness, I'd have gotten up and made him a meal. But instead, I BEGGED him to come home with a burger. Something fast. Something I didn't have to move a muscle for. And bless the man ... he complied.
Brown bags of cajun fries and juicy burgers arrived a la Five Guys. I inhaled my feast, and washed it down with one giant single gulp of Coke. Was I full? Yeah, that'd be an understatement.
I mustered up the energy to clean up the burger crumbs. I also sat with the kiddo to do a little homework. (I mean, this activity was THE activity for the day.) And then - without warning - I walked by a mirror and flashed myself a glimpse of my tummy.
Okay? WHAT? First of all, I'm gonna call myself out for flashing myself. That's just silly. But more importantly: Taylor - timing is EVERYTHING. I had just eaten a burger, fries, and a superhuman sized Coke. I'd been laying sideways with a six year old watching cartoons all day. My hair was a display of all the world's cowlick's on one head. Obviously what I saw staring back at me was not my best version. Obviously! So - why'd I do it?
I don't have an answer. And maybe this story is anticlimactic. But there's a new rule in this house: no more drive-by flashings! I'm kind of judging myself right now.