So the clock radio in the car strikes 5:40 am and I'm driving to the YMCA to torture myself in week two of boot camp because I'm 20 pounds overweight after giving birth to a child who doesn't seem to care about the havoc she has caused to my body. I'm in some bright pink sweats and a T-shirt that is too tight that says " This is my sassy shirt." For the first time in years I have a gut and it's not sexy. Nothing about me is sexy. In fact I felt very very middle-aged as I tried to fit into my skinny jeans last night and failed. Ironic, last year at this time I was in the best shape of my life after finishing a weight loss infomercial with Ron.
So I look down and see in the dash of the car-- Dora the Explorer toys from McDonalds, a razor of Ron's, a Red Bull Can, and a Mexican Coin. But I'm not seeing those things because I'm listening to Fleetwood Mac's lyrics. "Thunder Only happens when it's rainin’..Players only love you when they're playin." I'm instantly transported to another lifetime. Another young 23 year old totally carefree girl who was head over heels, and every other body part in lust with some Marine she met on the Hermosa Pier at a bar called Sharkeez in some cute little sundress.
It seems like a million years ago but hearing that song brought every sensory image from that relationship and time in my life flooding though my brain. I wasn't driving to boot camp. I was driving to San Diego on a whim to go to some exclusive party with my "love/lust of the moment," and walking along beaches with him picking flowers from people's yards at 1:00am, and me thinking it was the most romantic thing on the planet...stealing..so cute!
He was a charmer to say the least (he's in my first book). But it's not about him. It's about the girl I once was. Who was that? Do I envy her? Do I want to go back? Am I jealous I'm not jumping off to Cancun for "Girlfriend vacations," or spending hours lamenting over which outfit to wear while jamming out to Prince Songs in my bathroom? I think my biggest anxiety back then was "Did I like him more than he liked me?" Nothing had changed since kindergarden when I had the same issue with Brandon Duck. I thought about my Marine (yes I looked to see if he was on face book and he's not)! I thought as I was listening to the music and letting it fill my senses, I wonder what life would have been like if I ended up with my Marine? We had a dramatic parting and I think I was secretly waiting for him to show up somewhere when he "shipped back in" and carry me off like Richard Gere, but it never happened. I heard he's a lawyer somewhere in the Midwest and well, I'm me. I am a comedian with a husband, two kids, and a Suva going to boot camp 3 times a week to try to regain my “youthful figure" whatever that is.
It was a moment this morning that made me literally grin from ear to ear. I turned up the jams and bobbed my head a little bit feeling "cool." So just for a moment I realized that girl is still in there, 20 pounds or so heavier, but she's in there. I have some cool little sun dresses in the back of my closet along with my “little white goal pants." I also have two amazing little girls who genetically would not be in existence unless Kerri Pomarolli and Ron McGehee turned off the cable TV a couple of times ( sorry for the visual mom). But I love my life. I really do. I love that Friday nights are now spent with take out Mexican Food and ice cream on the couch anxiously waiting for the girls to sleep so Ron and I can try go make it through an Episode of Burn Notice, Biggest Loser, or Food Network without falling asleep . So for today Jan 2011 I'll jam out to my Fleetwood Mac and know that I still" got it"(Whatever “it” is)! I just know that there are 3 people in this world named Ron, Ruby, and Lucy that think I'm really really cool!
Ok wait..my 3 year old just approached me wearing nothing but a fur coat asking for more jello to put all over her body. I told her "No honey that' s a different kind of outreach ministry all together." Go back to Diego and eat your dry cereal breakfast like mama made you.
