A Hot Mess

And I'm not talking about Prince Harry or Lindsey Lohan....I'm referring to yours truly.  My mind seems to be recovering from my DC debacle learning experience; however, the body ain't fairing (love the country talk?) too well.  Went to the physical therapist this past week to figure out why I keep getting stress fractures in my right tibia and he so kindly pointed out the following that is affecting my gait....

A mild curve in my lower spine --gee thanks, flashes me back to 6th grade locker room checks for scoliosis...that and the fact that the boys in gym class had moobs (man+boobs) bigger than my chest (talk about being self-conscious).

I walk funny--I think this is genetic, but that seems to be everyone's excuse.  I tried to tell the physical therapist that I'm originally from a little town near Gary, Indiana (used to be the murder capital of the U.S or so my brothers told me) and the way that I walk is simply my own personal swagger.  It puts the vibe out that I mean business.

In a dark alley, my left leg could kick my right leg's butt -- in other words, my left leg is like the incredible hulk and the right leg is like Bruce Banner (yes, I had to google his name) before he turns into the incredible hulk. 

I'm a little hard on myself and was about to give up on the whole running thing, but a recent encounter with a 9 yr old at Walmart reminded that I'm really as cool as everyone thinks I am.

I was walking around in Walmart minding my own business when I encountered this young man and ours eyes met...and then he did what's depicted in the pictures below.

#1.  He licked his pointer and pinky fingers (I don't think that's something I'd even consider doing at Wally World without a gallon of hand sanitizer).

#2.  He used those same saliva saturated fingers to groom his eye brows (Do what you got to do, I guess)

#3.  He made the Joey Tribbiani "how you doing?" face and pointed the aforementioned saliva saturated fingers directly at me (Please notice my full lip look...that right there, that's is all me..100% au nautrale, no fillers)

 I think I'm going to take his gesture as a compliment...could have been worse, he could have flipped me off.  In the words of another hot mess..Charlie Sheen...WINNING!!

Heaven Help Me, I Was A Loser

I've started writing this post several times, but was too embarrassed for anyone to see this.  Here goes...I'd like to preface this post with the fact that my mother rolled our van when she was 6 months pregnant with yours truly.  As a result, I am not fully accountable for the quirky  amazing personality that you know and love.

Take a little walk down good ole memory lane with me, it should only take about 5 minutes as I have blocked out many memories from my formative years.  I like to refer to the era as my awkward years.  We all have them, some individuals are stuck in them longer than others. For me, my awkward years spanned from 2nd grade - my senior year in high school complete with plum speckled glasses, braces, wearing fake Birkenstocks with socks, my skeletor physique, and E.T fingers (oh wait, I still have those... the hubs tells me I have the perfect fingers for flipping people off, and my co-workers have even measured them). 

But, who am I kidding, I'm still stuck in my awkward years... and 5th grade was probably the worst.  Case in point, my friends and I formed a group and as a initiation task we had to come up with a "cool" word that would be unique to the group.  One by one, each of the members (and I think there were a total of 3 members..yup, just call me Ms. Popular) said their word and then it was my turn.... Not sure where I heard or came up with this word, but it was DEFINITELY not from my parents.  (Mom, I will understand if you never talk to me again or take me out of the will).  Take a few deep breaths, Leigh, you are a 30 yr old woman-child adult.  You can say it....

KINKY, that was my word.  I thought it meant cool, neat, awesome, etc. This would have been fine if it had stayed within the realm of our group, but I let it slip in front of a classmate.  I said to Carl, that shirt you're wearing is soooo kinky (I'm assuming I was attempting to impress him with my stellar/advanced vocab). Well, Carl must have grown up in different circumstances because in 5th grade he knew what the word meant and laughed hysterically at me.  Once he explained, I was mortified (worse than the time I forgot to wear a bra to class at age 21)  I thought, how am I going to show my face in Mrs Masterson's class ever again.  The world was over momentarily until some other 5th grader was caught picking his nose.  All was forgotten.  And I even graduated from 5th grade.  Whew, it was a close one. Your life can really change in the blink of a eye.

Life goes on, I've moved onto bigger and better things like going to Walmart in my pjs....maybe I'll get lucky and end up on this site: http://www.peopleofwalmart.com/

Happy Monday!!

Runner's Trots....Episode #891,223

In the running community, which I'm not cool enough to be a part of there's a dirty little secret that seasoned runners don't always tell you about..

The runner's trots, a.k.a diarrhea cha cha cha, or IT...need I say more?  Probably not, but I'm going to anyway.

In the privacy of your own home, no problem....on a run, it's a different story. WARNING:  If you're not comfortable with talk of defecation, it's time for you to get out of here ASAP.  In my field of work, people always talk to me about their many bathroom trials and tribulations.  Makes sense because I am indeed a gastroenterologist  in the health field and that's code for most people as tell me everything that no one else wants to know.  SCORE!!  As a result, I am now well versed in the bowel movement woes that people endure while sitting on the couch and devouring an entire bag of potato chips and a 2-liter of coke exercising.  I like to think of it as getting to learn vicariously through the experiences of others by listening to EVERY.LAST.DETAIL about their pooping conundrums.  Hmmm, I did not receive this training in my job orientation class and now it's in my everyday convos with my clients. Surprisingly, I have found this experience allowed me to become a better runner.  Say what?!  It's simple you see,  I now know all the things that can go wrong and how to keep my A game still intact on a run.  Get your popcorn and candy ready ladies and gents, it's story time....

On a beautiful Saturday morning in the District (CAUTION:  I have an involuntary reaction to smack people when they refer to D.C as THE DISTRICT...it just sounds so pretentious) while I was approximately 20 minutes into my run, "IT" hit me like Hurricane Irene circa 2011.  This was the worst kind of trouble I've gotten myself into, unless you count the time I got caught trying to pee standing up back in 1985. There was a rumble and a grumble, and I knew I needed to find a wooded area  bathroom faster than a church parking lot clears out after Sunday services.

The "running gods" must have been smiling down on me because 1/4 mile down the path there was a porta-potty.  Perfect...okay not really because here's where it gets a little interesting.  After taking care of business, I realized there was NO toilet paper in the porta-potty.   ZERO.ZIP.ZILCH.  What to do, what to do....? (seriously, what would you do here??) Cha-ching... What's that you ask?  That's me cashing in on the fact that I married an engineer with superb analytical skills and realizing some of his wisdom has finally rubbed off on me. The way I saw it...I had three options to remedy my predicament.

1.  Do nothing and go about my run like nothing smells  happened
2.  Pull a Britney by going commando and use my underwear as toilet paper or
3.  Take off one my $6 socks and use it as toilet paper, not to mention a new fashion trend

This sounds like one of those Choose Your Own Adventure Books, doesn't it?  So exciting!!  Being the fashionista that I am,  I choose door #3. Just call me Mrs. Problem Solver.  Business completed without an accident - check.  Successful clean up - check.  Pride still intact - just barely check. 

That certainly wasn't my first encounter with the runner's trots and isn't likely to be the last.  The moral of the story is always run with socks or a sports bra stuffed with Kleenex. Your welcome.

TGIF!!!

P.S-- This post was written under the influence of two benadryls...I cannot be held responsible for any typos. 

Why I Oughta....

This is my RAGE face...translation- your face is about to meet my fist.  Okay not really, but it makes me sound as tough as a hefty bag. The picture above is actually a reenactment of an experience I had in the Drone City   DC.  Disclaimer: no one was hurt during the making of this photo unless you count the mirror I used to get ready this morning or the camera that snapped this shot. 

Not everyone believes me on this, but DC can invoke feelings of massive amounts of rage in people.  Maybe it's the politics, maybe it's the astronomically absurd cost of living, or the "terrorists"  tourists that invade the city every spring and summer months?!  Who knows, but it's probably a combination of several things that have created the perfect storm of hostility.  I'm ashamed to admit this, but DC got the best of me and I even had a couple of instances where smoke literally came out of my ears.  Again, keep in my that this is my kind of rage, which on a scale of 1 - 10 is probably only a 4 max.  Okay, maybe a 5... to be honest in the story that you're about to hear, I definitely wasn't thinking "What Would Jesus Do" or even my personal mantra, "What Would Joan Do" (Joan happens to be my mom and she's the closest thing I know to a saint on this earth). But enough background...let's get to the story.


 I had finished running errands and was approaching a stoplight and like the good citizen that I am,  I decided to come to a full and complete stop.  After I stopped, I noticed some pedestrians crossing the street illegally (there's some unwritten rule in DC that pedestrian's can cross the street whenever and wherever they please) so I decided to wait until they made it across safely (giving myself a pat on the back as I write this).  Unfortunately, there was a very rude man in a Mercedes behind me that didn't appreciate my patience and attention to safety.  He begin yelling, honking his horn, and waving his arms at me.  Gee, I guess he wanted me to make a turn on red and run those people over.  Maybe he didn't see those pedestrians or he just simply thought he was more important because he drives around a Mercedes (Newsflash Mr...Mercedes in DC are a dime a dozen, you're not special).  At any rate, this invoked some serious anger inside of me that I had never before experienced. I didn't know what to do, I'm not used to feeling that way.  I don't cuss so the next logical thing to do was put my fist up in the air and shake it around so the Mercedes driver would know that I meant business. That lasted a whole 5-6 seconds, then I decided it'd be best to put my fist away.  I'm sure he got the message he probably didn't even notice my tiny fist waving at him in disdain, but it made me feel better.  After that, I actually almost had the desire to do some boring yoga, but being the lazy person that I am I decided against it.  Instead, I did what any normal American would do to deal with stress, I ate a pint size container of Ben and Jerrys ice cream (Cherry Garcia, in case you were curious) and watched some reality t.v.

I am happy to say that I'm almost 1-month "clean" of the DC rage and any lingering feelings of rage have started to dissipate.

Happy Tuesday!!!

I'm Not Dying...I'm Just Unemployed

We moved recently to a small rural town in upstate New York and I left my soul-sucking rewarding job in the health field.  I needed a break to recover and have the energy again to want to help people. I'd like to think I'm currently in a detox/recovery program which involves a lot of Real Housewives, Teen Mom, Days of Our Lives, and Jerseylicious (all trainwrecks of shows, but they make me feel a whole lot better about my life)...please take note this is a judgement free zone.  Whew...good to let those secrets out.  The only downside is now I'll have to deal with the repercussions of my readership levels dropping from 2 people to 1.

Back to the point...being unemployed sometimes people treat you as though you have an illness or something devastating.  Lucky for me, the hubs has a career and I can take some time to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.  In the meantime, I'm going to relax and enjoy the following..

Wake up wheneva I want to
Exercise at multiple times during the day
Watch the aforementioned tv shows (please don't make me name them again because I might reveal even more..)
Be attentive to my iphone games--word with friends, draw something, hanging with friends (gotta keep this mind sharp)
Get back in touch with my spiritual side
And last, but not least have a clean house (the par-tay just don't stop over here)

In other news...or I guess old news....

The photo below might look like I'm seriously injured...not to worry this is from a couple of years ago when I decided it'd be a grrrreat idea to use my face as a stopping mechanism while on a bicycle.  I'll leave out the gory deets, but it was not pretty.  Surprisingly, some people pay big buck-a-roos for lips like these and mine only cost a couple "benjamins" and a trip to the E.R.  Can you say S-C-O-R-E?!

I like to call this my full lip look.  Boy, that bottom lip sure does look volumptous voluptuous...I just might have to use my face for brakes again...I come from a long line of thin lipped people.   And desperate times, call for desperate measures...don't forget, I'm unemployed.

Me as a Kid--In the Flesh, No Imitations

Yours truly....Doesn't get much cuter than this.  Actually, it probably does---there's always Suri Cruise.  Who knew you could wear fuchsia corduroy overalls and a floral turtle neck.  Wow..AMAZING, if I do say so myself and I do.

I was an interesting child---#5 out of 6.   I am was attached to my mama at the hip.  She just couldn't shake me, but I'm sure she wanted to because I said/did some pretty embarrassing things back in my glory days.  For instance....

"Take that you bas!@rd!"  (Thank you, Princess Bride.. I believe I was being tormented by brother #3)

Mooning family members when I got mad, I guess that was my way of listening to Madonna and expressing myself.

"I bet they're getting the "sex" talk." (My response to my bff as to why my brothers got abruptly called inside... I think I was probably 10 or 11 yrs old here)

Making my own fashion choices--- My dad laid out my clothes for preschool one day and even at that age I knew there was no way I was going to wear a navy blue velour sweatshirt.  What to do, what to do??  I couldn't very well tell my dad no.  Nope, no siree...I grew up in a generation where kids feared listened their parents (at least for the most part).  My solution?  Blow my snotty nose into the shirt. Bingo, problem solved.

"Mom, it's p!$$ing out!! (Don't have a movie to blame this one on, but I was referring to my precious punctured pop can)

Peed my pants multiple times once at a family friend's house and they gave me some red butt ruffled undies to replaced my boring underwear.  Hellooooo, blessing in disguise!!  I loved these undies so much that I'd wear them and nothing else and shake my bum in the front window of our home. Can you say classy?  Keep in mind, this was one of the busiest streets in our small town....this was obviously before the "call CPS for everything era" began.

"Mom, Leigh pooped in the bath tub!!!!" (Sibling #4 to my mother...I guess I had a little toilet/tub confusion)

My grandma (the famous G.G) smoked and since she liked it so much I wanted to give it a try for myself. Again, knowing at the ripe old age of 5 that my parents would not approve, I decided to grab some cigarette butts off the side of the road for a test run.  Now, where to smoke??  How about behind the house?  In the bathroom?  Being the genius that I am, I decided to "smoke" them in the back of my parent's mini van on our way to a family gathering at who else, but my G.G's house.  Yes, you can say it out loud....BRILLIANT.  Take note, with 5 siblings you are never alone, NEVER!!  Can't remember which sibling, but the tattle-tail shouted out--"Ummmmmm Mooooommmm, Leigh's smoking in the back seat.  In the words of Bill Clinton, I did not inahle...
 
"Beyonce is vo-lump-tuos."  (It wasn't until my late twenties that I was corrected on this one by the hubs..I now know it's voluptuous, but I think my pronunciation/spelling is better.  I stand by it 100%.)


There you have it...that was/is me in a nutshell :)  Happy hump day!!




  

A Woman, the Japanese, and Glass Table Tops...Oh My!!

It's been said before individuals attract attention from others that are most like themselves... this scares me!! In my job as a health educator/coach and fitness specialist, I have encountered some pretty crazy situations that have made me question my own sanity. Tonight's story is no exception.

While manning a front desk at a fitness center, I met a lady (let's call her Betty Jean) interested in becoming a member of the facility.  I went through an orientation regarding our services and amenities and thought Betty Jean would consider the options and return when she was ready.  NOT that LUCKY..  Before leaving the facility, Betty Jean insisted that we hold hands while she said a prayer (don't get me wrong, I love praying--it's just there's a time and a place and this wasn't it ).  She prayed for what felt like 5 solid minutes as people came in and out of the facility.  Any guesses on her prayer list?

World peace? Nope
Health and well-being? Nope
Comfort and safety? Nope

At our first "prayer meeting" Betty Jean blessed the fruit of my loins that I might multiply and replenish the earth (is it any wonder that I'm infertile?!) and...

The Japanese (I was contracted to work for a company based out of Japan) would love and respect me as a leader, that I would move up in the company and receive many raises. Gee thanks, who knew I could make this much of an impression on people within 10 minutes?! 


I didn't want to be rude so I just stood there lightly grasping Betty Jean's hands and trying to not to laugh at the crazy looks I received from patrons.  After the prayer, Betty Jean went on to advise me to purchase a glass tabletop ASAP.  Her reasoning...they are worth a lot of money. Hmmm, last time I checked glass was not a precious stone or metal.  Anyone have any ideas here?

On that note, I'll call it a night...if you get a chance, fill me in on your crazy work stories.

My Husband Made Me Do It--For Reals...

Any guesses??? Let me give you a few key phrases to help decipher my costume.

• I'm off to take the Browns to the Super Bowl
• I've gotta drop the kids off at the pool
• It's time to download a brownload

Yup, you guessed it.. that's me dressed to impress as a T-U-R-D at a Halloween work party. My boss was so proud, she took me around to the neighbor's house to show off her coolest employee.  Right after that I got a raise and my own office.  Good times, good times!! If you can bear to take your eyes off this genius of a costume, look to the right at the handsome fella dressed as a toilet (that's my one and only love muffin).  It's official, we go together like turds & toilets.

I'm curious, what's your best Halloween costume?