I think I know myself pretty well having had 32 years to gaze at my navel and contemplate my own existence. So when people question statements I make about what I would and would not do, implying that they somehow know me better, I want to hock and spit.
Before the birth of my son, I stated frequently that I would not go through labor and delivery of my child moaning, shrieking, and making a general ass of myself. It's this Pride Thing I've got. Women would look down their noses at me and say with a sneer, "Oh, but you never know." Fuck you, bitches. I let out nary a scream (save for one big push at the end) or shriek. This Potty Mouth Queen only let one expletive slip from her lips in the entire 12 hours.
So there. When I say I am going to do or not do something, I meant it.
Now having said all that, tonight I am running in a 5K at Maymont. In my Fat Girl days, I used to proudly declare that I only ran when chased. Sometimes, I do go back and eat my words. But I don't make it a habit. That narsty little Pride Thing rearing its shiny head again.
Five Things I Will Never Do:
1. Eat Lobster: No amount of prodding and cajoling will ever convince me that giant sea roaches are potable. I don't reach down to the ground, pick up bugs, rip their legs off, and dip them in butter. It makes no sense to eat one just because some fisherman pulled it out of a net. I've tasted crab; it's nasty. Lobster meat will not pass these lips, unless the entire world's food supply disappears, save for lobster. Then I best get me a lot of ketchup.
2. Get remarried: Every time I see one of those eHarmony or Match.com commercials, I look over at Adrian and tell him he is not going leave me or die before me. If that's what dating is like now, God help me, I'm just staying single and chaste. After being in a relationship with the same person for nearly 13 years, I can't even fathom starting all over from scratch. Besides, it's a miracle of God that I found someone wacky enough to be willing to marry me in the first place. Lightening rarely strikes twice.
3. Get a face lift/Botox injections: I have a healthy amount of vanity. My goal each day is leave the house wearing at least mascara. I dye my hair and spend a good chunk of change on cosmetics and skin care. Recently, I've noticed faint creases developing along the sides of my nose and mouth. (I really gotta stop smiling.)
No way in hell am I going to shoot effing BOTULISM in my face to smooth a few wrinkles. Similarly, I will deal with looking like a crone before I have some surgeon cut my face, peel the skin away from my skull, and then pull it tighter. Gross, gross, gross. Maybe, just maybe, by the time I need to start worrying about looking old, some new cosmetic procedure will be developed that requires neither injections of deadly diseases to paralyze the face nor scalpels and skin peeling. Or maybe I will age as beautifully as Helen Mirren. She's a fox.
4. Go on a cruise: Trapped on a huge boat with a bunch of strangers. Floating aimlessly in open water. 24-hour buffets festering under heat lamps. A cold sweat is breaking out across my forehead as I type. Just the thought of being on a cruise ship brings me to the edge of a panic attack.
5. Be photographed/painted/filmed in the nude: I see my naked body at least once a day, and let me assure you, the rest of the world doesn't need to be subjected to it. I've already exposed the unsuspecting public to my body clad in a bikini. It's just better for everyone if I keep my clothes on and refrain from creating any permanent image of my nekkidness. Don't even get me started on how I would never in a million years film myself having sex. *Shudder* I can't even grasp the concept of why people would do such a thing.