I can so empathize with BooMama and her eyelashes that aren't sore. Except here's the the thing: she went shredding. Or shredded. Or something. I don't even know the appropriate term, let alone exactly what torture she put her body through.Suffice it to say, it sounded good for you. And painful in an I-won't-be-able-to-walk-for-a-week sort of way.
I just stood in line at church for a cookie. That doesn't sound nearly as good for you. But try it standing on one leg while leaning on a crutch and suddenly you are working muscle groups you didn't know you had. Halfway through the line, my leg was shaking and I was ready to abort the mission entirely. If only it weren't for those expectant little knee-high eyes filled with joy at the thought of what was soon to grace her little plate. And the smell of chocolate.
The things we do for our children. And chocolate.
In the morning, as I lay helpless on my back wondering if I'd done anything permanent, I regretted every second and every crumb. Every muscle. . .even those in the leg I thought was just along for the ride. . .ached and I wasn't entirely sure I would be able to get up. Or if I even wanted to try.
And I think the surgeon wasn't kidding when he said it could take up to three months to have my full strength back. Otherwise, I'll be collapsing to videos of perky little women standing in line at the grocery store set to some hoppy music intended to keep my mind from becoming aware of the impending collapse.
Apparently, that is just a tad more than I'm ready for just now.
