If you are friends with me on Facebook, then you’ve already heard this one, but still….


I came back from an 8 mile run this morning and hubby asked me how it went.

“Okay, I guess, but it took 1:27 and I really wanted to finish in 1:20 even.”

Hubby rolled his eyes, “Sweetie, that’s good…(get ready for it)…for a woman of your age.”

Whaaaa..??? I’m sorry but I couldn’t possibly have heard that correctly, I guess in my decrepitude my hearing has gone as well…”What did you say?”

“Oh, please.” he said and walked away. As if it should be self-evident to me that a 10 minute mile is beyond a senior citizen like myself. And, YES, I know my last post was all about wanting to be 71 years old, but I didn’t mean TODAY. Geez. I thought it was pretty clear in our wedding vows that we were promising to “honor, cherish and lie, lie, lie through our teeth about each other’s abilities and attributes.” I don’t really want an honest assessment of my potential to be a “real” runner…I want him to lie and tell me that I will continue to get speedier and speedier until I drop dead running the 2071 Medtronic marathon. The same way I don’t wish to hear that PMS has made me a shrew-like harpy. I want to hear that he finds me “…eternally delightful.” Is that really so hard to understand? Dang!

The thing is, I tend to be hard on myself and set what some have suggested are unrealistic expectations. (Shock. Disbelief.) Having a husband who out and out lies to me about my awesomeness is necessary to keep me from just imploding from the self-applied stress. It’s worked for years, and I don’t see any reason to bring honesty or forthrightness in to muck up the system now. Our house of cards will fall down! What’s next? I’ll have to drive the car when we go places together? Kirk’s going to do the grocery shopping? Black is white! Up is down! War is peace!

No, nononono. I say we leave it right as it is. Dear Hubby, tell me I’m a world class runner, dammit. While you’re at it, throw in “beautiful” “sexy” and “totally sane.” I know that you do it for me because you are wonderful, endlessly patient and way cuter than George Clooney. Seriously. Would I lie to you?




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The Rise & Fall of a Momocracy

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