When I was about 11 or 12, I remember sitting in our car with my mother waiting for my Dad. He was a City Cop, but worked part time security at a local department store, and since we only had one car, my mother picked him up when he worked his night gig…Wurzburg’s Department Store.
Since my mother never listened to the car radio and we didn’t have a relationship of any kind, we never (ever) talked to each other, we sat there in silence. As we sat there in that cold, quiet car I had a burning question on my mind…so I asked
So…what are the “Facts of Life” If silence could become even more silent….it just did
After a few very uncomfortable seconds of silence, she went full on apoplectic. I didn’t understand the reaction she had. I don’t recall ever seeing her this flustered, my mother had an answer for everything…and if she didn’t, she would be angry at you for asking such a stupid question. This apoplectic reaction was most unusual. Whenever someone says “there’s no such thing as a stupid question”….I always laugh a little because I know they’re wrong. My mother instructed me to never tell my Dad “about this”, and since she never answered my question, I wasn’t sure what the “about this” was, but “Mums the word”, I thought.
I had no idea the “Facts of Life” were about sex! I thought they were just some important facts that everybody ought to know, and everybody but me already did. Facts that had been assembled by much wiser people than any of those in my circle of influence. Facts that were important to living your best life. Facts that were inevitable markers in your journey through life. You know, like…
You’re probably going to lose the same 30 lbs several times in your life.
So…here we go, let’s do this!
Wednesday: I sign both my husband and I up at a local Fitness Center, complete with trainer…we don’t actually go….I just signed up online.
Saturday: The trainer is insistent! We go to the Gym. He ran us through a fitness evaluation and told us we were in “Poor Condition”. No Shit Sherlock. He asked us each how much we weighed. I made my husband plug his ears, then he wrote it down so he could see it. The trainer is now dead to me. His attempt at a hard press sales job to employ his services, which are above and beyond the Gym Membership we’re already paying for, and at a rate of $500 a month. Ah, no.
Neither one of us could move Saturday Night….we were so sore, using muscles we hadn’t used in a very long time….we just hadn’t needed them before just to sit on the couch and eat our chocolate chip cookies.
Sunday: We wanted to throw in the towel, but we didn’t. We went back to the club. The trainer advised me to have a massage a couple of times a week! What a terribly self indulgent idea. I pretended not to like it.
I’ll keep you posted.