quiet time

I am a fat girl. I freely admit that to myself and to the world. and I didn't get to be a fat girl by having "skinny bitch" hobbies. Relaxing to me does not consist of making my own organic granola or climbing faux mountains that are made of polypropanolisticated rock like material with brightly colored nubbies for me to put my highly specialized and expensive faux rock climbing sneakers on.(you wanna climb a rock?......go find a fucking rock!) No no no. My hobbies involve sitting......and spreading. You will never find me running a 5K or "power" walking with my arms pumping wildly so the world can know that I'm walking and not enjoying it. I'm an ambler......I amble.

As I become a slightly less fat girl (down 25 pounds! that's a big 100 sticks of butter thank-you!) I find myself picking up my pace at work and also while walking my goddamned dogs. I'm walking a little faster because I can now.....and because dogs are not amblers. They force me to pick up my pace. Sorry Cesar Milan. So much for calm assertive energy. My dogs are not deferring to my authority by walking slightly behind their leader. (and that would be me??) They are hurrying to sniff the next enticing aroma of animal excrement which is like crack to them. I am walking fast in an attempt to maintain the illusion that I am in control of them and not the other way around.

The reality is that they have a very high opinion of their place in our little hierarchy. This is especially evident when I'm engaging in one of my favorite exercises.......reading. Wouldn't it be wonderful if you could burn calories by reading?? Yes you say??.......I have found a way!!! All you need is a house full of animals that are assholes.....like mine.

Here's how it goes: It's a lovely fall rainy day. I love fall. the smell of rain and wet leaves and wood stoves. A good book on my lap. *sigh* Heaven!! The seductive sound of paper has drawn several cats. Jet Black saunters over and sits on my open book. I gently push him off but not before a claw catches my ample thigh "OUCH!!...bastard child" The steady stream of cats continue,and despite my efforts to remove them painlessly, I'm becoming battle scarred. I'm convinced that they are gathering in the kitchen, shooting the breeze and smoking cigarettes until it's the next cats turn to leap between me and the open pages of my book. I put my book down and stand up with the cat and place him on the floor. This diminishes my chances of getting an ouchey. Six sets of twenty "standey up and sitty back down"s later, I'm exhausted and have managed to actually read 3.75 pages. Clearly, the cats have concerns about my more sedentary pursuits. They are always thinking of my health, the dear little angels.

Nickolai has decided that watching television is a worthwhile past time but reading is most definitely not. I pick up a book and in between cat assaults, Nickolai is vocalizing in his truly hellish husky way. He sits at my feet and harumphs, and pushes at the book with his nose. I put the book down and turn the television on. Hmmmmmm....he's stopped rrrrrowling. He's settling at my feet!! Cool!! I very slooooowly,so as not to wake him, turn the volume down......shhhhhh!! being......very......careful.......not.....to.....wake..........I pick up my book......volume almost all the way down....book almost open....shhhhhhhh. Nickolai springs up from a dead sleep and pushes the book closed with a final annoyed harumph, jumps up on the couch.....looks at the TV.... and looks at me as if to say "What did you do to fuck up the television?!"

I quit! "Who wants to go fucking walkies you little hell hounds!" I miss sitting. I miss spreading. I miss Funyuns. What have i done?? I've turned perfectly sedentary and chubby animals in to lean, mean, annoying machines.

Such is my life