Cost of two kneecap brace-like things that cut off all circulation to my lower extremities: $29.74
Cost of custom made orthotics for running shoes: $210.00
Cost of new running shoes: $119.25
Cost of chiropractor co-pay: $10.00
Cost of ice packs for injuries to back, knees, foot and for treating shin splints: $10.99
Cost of odd-looking device called a Strassburg Sock* used for treating plantar fasciitis: $24.99
Cost of being the oldest, most decrepit, lamest-ass LAME ASS boot camp has ever seen: PRICELESS
Cost to my ego of daily humiliating situations from which I will never fully recover: INCALCULABLE
Good Grief Charlie Brown, this sucks. Big time.
I asked BeBop the other day, "is there a limit to how much humiliation I can withstand?" "No," he answered somewhat gravely, "there does not seem to be a limit."
I don't know if that exchange makes any sense at all, but the point is each day is just a series of horribly embarrassing things I am made to do. Made to do in front of the Blond Mom Gang Leader whose perfect, blond short hair and super sassy work out outfits have cast a kind of spell upon me, and I find myself strangely attracted to her. Like an old, busted-ass moth drawn to a beautiful, skinny and tanned flame who has just returned from yet another weekend in Lake Tahoe.
I'm not making much sense am I? What else is new.
Moving on.
Both of my knees are KILLING me, I'm guessing from all the running and the side-to-side lateral things we have to do across the entire basketball court and back again about a frillion and 47 times every morning. And I got shin splints from the uphill (BOTH WAYS! How do they do that?!?) jogging we did on Monday. And my hip is out. (I learned that phrase, 'my hip is out' from my Grandmother when she was like 93 years old, if you must know.) And my foot is killing me, thanks to a recurrence of the delightful affliction plantar faciitis. Which is Latin for IT FUCKING HURTS.
And so I limp off to boot camp each morning at 5:45 AM, hoping against hope there has been some rip in the fabric of time and that by the time I arrive at the park my class will be over and it's time for me to go home and shower. And ice various appendages. But for some odd reason that never seems to happen.
The jump rope is still the bane of my existence. Honestly? I feel like I'm missing something. I fear that all those I have my period AGAIN excuses in junior high caused me to miss the Jump Rope 101 class that all the other girls seem to have taken.
(Incidentally, I also somehow managed to miss the How To Style Your Hair class, the How To Apply Make Up class, the How To Wear Candies Wedge Sandals With Lace-Up Chemin De Fer Jeans Without Looking Like a Total Slut class as well as the How To Grow Breasts class. Not that I'm keeping track or anything.)
I tried the one foot and then the other method, but I was a total spaz and kept tripping myself. Then I tried the jump with two feet at the same time plan, but that is also a hot mess.
I am quite clearly the most pathetically uncoordinated person on the face of the earth.
When we have to jump rope, here the sound coming from everyone else in class:
WHOOSH WHOOSH WHOOSH
or
WOOSHWOOSHWOOSHWOOSHWOOSHWOOSHWOOSH
like a goddamn Rocky movie or something.
But here is the sound you hear from me:
WOO – FRICK STOMPSTOMP (as I'm readjusting the rope behind my feet to start over) WHOOSH WHOOSH (YEAH! I'm in a rhythm no-) FRICK! STOMPSTOMP WHOOSH WOO CLANG (rope gets caught on ponytail) FUCK STOMPSTOMP WHOOSH WHOOSH WHOOSH (Okay, now I've got it, let's just try to keep it goin') OOOF! [sound of stumbling as I've managed to somehow get the rope tangled around both ankles] [sigh] (Is Blond Gang Leader Mom watching? DREAD DREAD DREAD) STOMP STOMP WOO-FRICKING FRICK TO THE MOTHER FUCKING FRICK
I mean really, just imagine me in my black work out pants and an Adidas sweat-wicking tee cursing and stumbling with the rope either around my ankles again or stuck in my hair or wrapped tightly around my neck, trying to hop up and down and cursing loudly and sneaking looks to see how many people have stopped what they're doing just to stare at me. How's that for a visual?
Because that image is so horrifying, here's something else to look at:
We're Here All Week, Please Try The Veal & Tip Your Wait Staff!
(HOLD IT RIGHT THERE! ! Up there, look! Link to a new YouTube video of the Watson Twins.)
*Speaking of this crazy contraption called the Strassburg Sock, it is basically a huge white, well, sock, with some strappy things that you put on, like a miniature straight jacket. You put the sock on and pull it all the way up to your knee, then lift your foot up and secure your toes using the strappy things to your leg, essentially keeping your foot at a permanent 90 degree angle. And you're supposed to sleep with this thing on. With your foot sticking out to the side or straight up in the air, depending on how you sleep!
BeBop has taken to calling it the Lee Strasburg Sock and of course each time he does I have grandiose fantasies about starring in a new feature film called My Left Foot, The Sequel: My Right Foot.
I know, I know. Enough said.
Dear Gawd Watson, I am soooo in awe of you.
I sooo respect your stick-to-it-ness, because I would have quit…no wait a goddamn minute I NEVER would have started !!! LOL (I have 7 month old twins and I know how much energy that and working takes…you’re a super woman)
I hope it gets better, I hope I never get to see the pic of that thing (since work blocked it and I highly doubt me getting on at home to check it out) I hope that you start to sound like Rocky soon (if that is what you REALLY want)
You’re doing a great job but seriously girlfriend you’re AWESOME and AMAZING without all the “stuff” You make me laugh harder and longer (in a really GOOD way)than anyone I know. You gotta give yourself a break.
oh and tell all those skinny bea-octches in your class to kiss my tail…they are NOTHING next to you.
*Hugs*
1) You are INSANE. BOOT CAMP? 5:45 AM?
2) You are also kind of my hero.
plantar faciitis is pretty common post partum. I have it too. I was in PT for fucking MONTHS, and I’ll probably still have to go every summer because I’m not wearing hot sweaty shoes during flip flop season. (i.e. I will NEVER LEARN).
I am crying with laughter.
I had plantar facsiitis (sp?) during and after pregnancy, and then one day, voila! it was gone. I figure it was because I finally got under a certain weight.
I am having ANKLE issues post partum…I wonder if this is related? It sounds JUST LIKE what you have but with ANKLES. I googled it, naturally.
I hope yours gets better soon!
You’re crazy for the boot camp, though! I’m waaaaay too lazy for that crap! 🙂
Yes, you are my hero too.
That video is freaking hilarious.
Just a lurker here…but they do make a ropeless jump rope. It’s designed for a workout without worrying about tripping over the rope. Amazon sells it.
http://www.amazon.com/Pink-JumpSnap-Ropeless-Jump-Rope/dp/B000WXEH8G/ref=pd_bbs_2?ie=UTF8&s=sporting-goods&qid=1219280619&sr=8-2
That is the Very Best Video! I was laughing with delight! Your twins are lucky to have such a funny mother! I can just see it down the line – you and the boy are yucking it up, burping at the dinner table when they’re, oh, 11, and she will be JUST WAITING for you to be DONE with it. But she’ll enjoy it too, even if she won’t tell you. It’s funny how you can tell, from just a few minutes of video, what a great mom you are!
And yes, the jumprope story is funny too. Well, guess what? I was never able to jumprope either, until this past summer my 7 yr old twins taught me. They were the best teachers ever! I’m sure the boot camp from hell is having some positive effect. I’m so impressed that you’re getting up that early!
WHAT are you doing??? Shin splints????? uh?!
I have shin splints, along with some related hip/leg shooting pain due to childcarrying/birth fucking up my pelvis. I can barely walk at the end of my (admittedly) short runs.
I wear the same flared sweatpants and short-sleeved maternity shirt (because it’s long) every run. Fashion is my passion, obviously.
Shame you don’t live less than 6000 miles away. We’d making quite a workout pair.
Dear Watson, you are one funny masochist. And you have my whole-hearted respect and, frankly, awe.
That video was just the funniest. I especially loved the contrast in mood between the twins, who are both simply adorable.
I heart you! That’s just how I felt in yoga class. Cutest kids ever, by the way.
Boot Camp???!!! Did you not get the memo that having twins IS bootcamp??? You are a super hero. Loved loved the video. And the random shots of Parker are hysterical. I guess this has confirmed it. Boys find burping hysterical from birth. And girls just never get it.
Look at those babies!!!! They are adorable, Watson!
5:45 is insane. I don’t think I could do it. You rock.
they are just sooooo cute! love parker’s little wry smile at the end!
i do not at ALL understand CHOOSING to be up at 5:45. which must be why my awning hasn’t budged in 10 months. but seriously, how are you doing this??? you must have those fancy sleeping-variety babies…
lol on boot camp! You rock! As far as missin everything from jump rope class to application of makeup class, well, join the club. My only good excuse was I was a home schooled kid until it was too late to makeup those classes. Now I just bitterly stare at those bimbos around me (but hey- at least my kid is way cuter than theirs!
) BTW- the video is hilarious! Those are the cutest twins!!!v
Dear Watson – what happened to you? Did Boot Camp exhaust you so much you’re through with posting? Did you get so buff that your fingers won’t work on the keyboard? Have you decided to spend your hard-earned free time making more hilarious videos of laughing babies? Did the babies get more interesting than us, your devoted readers? (Well, yes, of course, they have ALWAYS been more interesting than us, I mean, you don’t really even know us, right?) But still, this is really just to say that I hope you’re doing well and enjoying the rest of the summer, along with your new-found fitness. (By the way, I was inspired to jumprope again by your recent post, and my 7 yr old daughter was cracking up: “Mommy, you’re making all kinds of funny faces!” You bet I was.)