Buns Hon

It is official and I am pissed. My butt has gotten bigger.

I put on a pair of pants this morning which have always fit a little snug in the hips and thighs, but I can’t even cross my legs in them now. Have I gained weight? No. Have I been training for a marathon? Yes.

People can tell me all the crap they want to about muscle weighing more than fat or how I look “healthy”. Tell it like it is. I have a honkeytonkbadonkeydonk. I have more cushin’ for the pushin’. Junk in my trunk.

My husband told me last week he wanted to start running and I was elated. I would love for him to do something with me that I enjoy. We love to travel together, but it is just not the same. What we really do is eat our way through certain areas of the country dragging along three kids and a babysitter. Exercising together would compliment that nicely.

The hubs wants to lose weight. I told him it would make the weight drop off of him. I would like to say that is what happened to me, but I cannot. If I added up all the weight I lost from when I began running four years ago it would equal ziltch. I haven’t lost pound number one after years of dragging my ass up and down every hill in Texarkana. I bet money he will drop 20 pounds in the first month. Asshole.

I also had a hard time when I started running. Even though I tried for about a month I could not run a full mile without stopping. I could stop and walk for about 30 seconds and then run again, but could just not get over that hump. One Saturday I was all dressed to run when one of the kids asked me to give them some peanut butter on a spoon. Since that is an upgrade from them asking me to squirt easy cheese in their mouths, I obliged. I reached in the silverware drawer and instantly ignited.

How hard is it? I have asked repeatedly and still he ignores me. It must show some sign of disrespect to me and my role as a wife. The little fork goes in the slot with the other little forks. Not the bigger forks. It is simple. I was irate. I took off running, after I gave the two year old half a container of peanut butter on her spoon, and didn’t stop for 1.5 miles. I was so pissed I just ran out all of my anger. I returned after 30 minutes a new woman.

Hubs was oblivious. I don’t even know if he realized I was gone. I returned to find him and the two year old watching a football game with peanut butter smeared on both their faces. I gave him a big kiss and thanked him for emptying out the dishwasher.

A few weeks later I built up to running five miles. I was so proud of myself I didn’t want to lose my momentum on our upcoming trip to Washington D. C. My plan was to run the monuments. Hubs decided he would go with me, but gave me a little speech before we left the Washington Monument. He explained to me how he had not run in a long time, but that he didn’t want to leave me behind. He told me,”Honey, if I leave you on the trail I will wait for you at the last monument. Don’t hurt yourself trying to keep up with me.”

I passed him at mile one. Surrounded by all the cherry blossoms and tourist I blew by him without breaking a sweat. I slapped him so hard on the ass his back arched. I was finished a full fifteen minutes before he finally met me wheezing and red in the face. He said, STOP FORREST STOP!

Once he starts running again he will be faster than me. He will also loose weight like I can only dream about. But perhaps he will no longer hate the way I leave my clothes on the trunk at the end of the bed, which I will gladly take over less junk in my trunk any day.