Monday, November 26, 2007
This is Mr. Stick. Go ahead, try and out do the dirty, nasty, and even juvenile comments my friend Jeanie and I have already conjured about my new best man. You can't do it....we are the reining champions of really raunchy things that over 40-year old women say about inanimate objects. But, please, if you think you can bring raise the bar, so to speak, go for it.
Mr. Stick is my new dancing partner. Like any other relationship this one was not love at first sight. First, I had to pick him out, then have him cut to size. You can somewhat see where I'm going with the analogies can't you? OK, well, he needed a bit dressing up after surgery, so I bought him a seriously beautiful coat (6 coats actually) of classic oak. A classic coat always looks good on a man. Mr. Stick lacks height, but he all wood. NO, I didn't just say that..... Let me continue.
After dressing Mr. Stick, sanding him down a few times I repeated my brutal and yet gentle nurturing act for several days while I talked to him, getting to know him, and letting him know that I would be the dominant one in this meaningful, and very important to my physical needs relationship.
You see, I NEED Mr. Stick. He's going to help me get the body that the ball only began. So, with this exercise thing becoming my new(er) obsession, the power of positive thinking not being quite enough to remove the fat around my torso - Mr. Stick was a clear choice. (Not really, I was going to do the mounted barre on the wall thing, and I bought the necessary hardware, but after holding Mr. Stick in my hands as long as I did, and after personally pouring my strength and love into him, I decided against making him immobile.)
I saw a movie over the weekend and there were a bunch of Army guys running and jumping up and down with their rifles...gave me an idea. If I can do a 30-minute regiment with Mr. Stick daily, every single day, I bet I could breathe better, dance longer, and even start rekindling the old feelings I had as a cheerleader/spirit clown from waaaayyyy back in the day. (Translation: I was thin then)
It may sound really silly, but I sat down on the end of my bed and I had a real conversation with the guy. "What do you think Stick, can you go 30 minutes a day with me?" He was speechless! To this day, through all the twirling, swirling, over the head, around the shoulders, and yes...helicopter moves, he hasn't complained one single time. I have. I wasn't quite paying complete attention during Journey's "After the Fall" and I totally slammed Mr. Stick down on my left big toe. OUCHHHH.....I think he feels he got the last laugh on that one, but I was determined not to cry in front him or the dogs. I thanked him. I bowed, I thanked my new friend for his continued support as well as the creativity in my dance; a good man is always silent in the bedroom, and he should inspire you from time to time. I don't know about breaking your toes, but again, it was my fault.
So, there you have it. I have a new friend - thin, strong, beautiful, great color actually, and he is - can I say it with a straight face - the right size for what I need him to do. (She so totally went there! Please, I'm blushing.)