Not to imitate Kacy’s theme of self-loathing…it must be something in the air….
I thought I would share a triumph followed by a spectacular fall from coolness.
Yesterday, I had on my cool new jeans, the ones worth discussing in a subsequent blog. After a decent day of feeling decent in my jeans, I decided to stop by Kacy and Christian’s house. They were going out to dinner, and graciously asked if I would like to go along. Since dinner out is always better than lonely dark house, I accepted and we had a wonderful time.
Once back at their house, Christian valiantly put the kids to bed while Kacy and I chatted. We were tired and full of Korean food so we slumped down on their comfy overstuffed furniture.
During a particularly interesting and witty antidote I was telling, Kacy began to point and laugh at my crotchal region. (When you’re full with yummy Korean spicy pork lettuce wraps you are exempt from sitting like a lady.) I looked down and saw a single piece of rice clinging to my sexy new jeans.
“Oh,” said I. “I must have dropped some rice.”
“No!” Kacy laughed with increasing intensity. “There’s more!”
I looked a little further, and lo and behold, there was ANOTHER clump of dried rice! Yikes. It was getting embarrassing.
“Oh, I must have dropped more than I thought!” said I good-naturedly.
“No!” cried Kacy once more. “It’s all over!”
Without getting too graphic…I must have dropped a whole SPOONFUL of rice in my lap and proceeded to grind it into my crotch with my every movement. My new jeans! My pride! As I walked like a bow-legged cowboy to her trash can to throw away dried rice I discovered not only more rice…but a new level of humiliation. Luckily, Kacy and I are to the point in our relationship where I can pick rice off my crotchal region in front of her and she can laugh it up with no discomfort on my part, nor malice on hers. But I must say that I felt a strange new sensation much like the need to go home and clean out my fat rolls: negligent and slovenly…even *gasp* sloppy.
So much for the sexy jeans. The effect was ruined. I wanted to run home in shame. But, see, this is where everyone needs a Kacy in their life. Someone to ground you. Some one to help you “keep it real”. Someone to tell you when you have a LOT of rice smashed in to your crotch and then laugh it up uncontrollably. Thanks, dear friend. Thanks a lot.