For this month, Mom is an enormous influence. My financial advisor? Mom. My dietician/nutritionist? Mom. My family physician? Mom. My personal trainer? Mom.

She’s bringing over a number of aerobics DVD with routines that would have been laughably easy two years ago, but now are a challenge for my scrambled-eggs brain. I do okay on a dance floor, but I’ve never been able to learn and mimic choreography in a smooth manner. The best I can do is like a jerky, scarecrow imitation. Watching my workout makes Mom shake her head. i am amazing in my awkwardness.

Mom: What kind of woman are you, you can’t follow a simple routine.
Me (continuing to huff and puff through the dancing): I know. I bring shame to my gender.
Mom: If you were a man, I could understand.
Me: Thank you.

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