Dear Self,
Please remember that, the next time that your children are invited to a birthday party/kid event at one of those inflatable jumpy-slidy-thing places, you should do the following:
a) First, please plan a workout regimen, ideally starting approximately 9 mos. before said party occurs. The reason for this is simple: your body is not used to being flung around, climbing intertube-like walls, and being slammed against inflated barriers at the end of very large slides. And your flexibility has begun to suck lately, too. So while being svelte and muscular won't fix the offense of being tossed around, perhaps you could look a little more proficient at inflatable kid boot camp. It's not so cool, after all, to be so winded that you can't talk after going down the slide, to come out the other end kissing the solid ground, rolled into a tight ball praying for the muscle spasm to stop. Or maybe while inside the inflatable, you could just flex one of your bodacious biceps and in looking at your muscles, everyone's glance will be pulled away from the glaring fact that you are beached atop an inflatable mountain with no hope of rescue crews anytime soon. In addition to the previously mentioned un-coolness, it is also not so cool to have been stranded so long inside the inflatable that to the three, four, and five year olds climbing over and on you, you have merely become part of the attraction ("Look, mom! I climb up this wall, I jump on that lady, and then I go down the slide!").
b) Second, and perhaps most important, please remember to wear your best underwear. Because everyone will see it as you climb into the inflatable jumpy-slidy things to rescue any number of children who at that moment are claiming that you are their mother. And because, when you're suffering the indignity of looking like the aforementioned beached whale, the "accretion formally known as Leslie", at least your undies will look pretty.
Signed,
Yourself.
3 comments:
um, you are very, very far from a beached whale my friend. but the underwear advice is golden!
Are you sure those kids claiming you as their mother were right? Methinks that in lieu of pretty underwear and 9 months of working out, maybe next time you could just train the kids to convince another woman to come rescue them.
Robert and I decided to have our 15th anniversary party at a local said blowey uppey thingey place but we opted "No Kids Allowed." It was an adult only party. We had 40 minutes in each room. After 20 minutes in the first room we were all red-faced, rug-burned, dripping in sweat, winded, and wondering how appropriate it would be to ask if the attendants could roll a cooler of beer into the playroom while we recovered. Good times!
Post a Comment