I’m seriously considering training for my first 5K ever, a move that might seem ridiculous as I have never even run a 1K and give up easily if my destination is more than 10 feet. There’s this crazy/awesome/crazy slash awesome again race called the Hell Run in October that involves several obstacles with barbed wire, mud pits and fire. I’ll be rewarded with a superhero cape and a beer.
But if I can’t even walk without injuring myself, what am I thinking doing something that is going to require even more energy? And fire!
So I’m thinking about it because we’re going to a family wedding in November and I have to look amazing. My sister-in-law sent me this beautiful gown to wear. The dress is gorgeous and way too fancy for my blood. Its soundtrack is Vivaldi’s Four Seasons while my normal style of dress is more apple bottom jeans and boots with the fur (WITH THE FERRR!). My other sister-in-law is buying me a pashmina wrap to match the dress and asked me how I like my name monogrammed, as if I regularly make those choices. No, Target never asks me how I’d like my initials monogrammed, only if I want it all on one card.
The one problem is that the dress perfectly encases my tummy, the way you grab your belly fat in your hands and weep, “GO AWAY! GO AWAY!” I know there is spanx available, but until they make spanx for my face, that won’t be a complete solution. So running? Could it be it? Is anyone a runner who was not a runner or up until the point of actively running had only run in situations of life or death (rabid dogs, Black Friday sales, buffets).
And also: I’ve decided to wear short dresses to BlogHer next week–bruises, bandages and all. If BlogHer is supposed to support and uplift women, why can’t I own my bandages? I’m just going to tell people I rushed into traffic and pulled a runaway stroller from oncoming cars. And now I can literally sing Enrique Iglesias’ “I can be your hero, BABY.”