Tuesday, January 20, 2009
My eye is deformed and infected and my mom doesn't even care.
Voicemail left to my Mom this morning:
Hi Mom. Just calling to check in. Call me when you get a chance. I am off to spin class and then to play a tennis match.
(ring ring--calling me right back) Hello?
I am holed up in my office on the treadmill watching the Obama's Inaguration. How could you go the gym today, of all days? (Ummmm, because I am working on my last 5 pounds and I COMMITTED to our tennis league and my partner to play every Tuesday from 12:30 to 2? Plus? Tivo!) I moved my treadmill to face the television.
What is Michelle Obama wearing?
Would you call that gold or yellow? Why is she wearing green shoes?
Mom! I went to the Emergency Room last night.
She looks fat!
What? Did you say Emergency Room? For the kids?
No. I went for me.
Oh my God. Really, Michelle looks fat. She should not wear hose. Bare legs are always best. She is not pale. Why is she wearing hose?
Mom! Did you hear me?
Well, yes. You told me that you went to the Emergency room, but now you are going to spin class and tennis, so I assume you are okay.
I went because I scratched my eyelid and got a terrible infection and my eye was swollen like a golf (okay, maybe more of a large marble) ball.
Who is the designer of her dress? She would look so much better if she would just stick to her sheath dresses with the cute belts. She needs to emphasize her arms and her little waist. Her butt is big and this dress looks MATRONLY (this is like the f-word for my mother).
Oooooookay. Well, I am fine. So, um, don't worry.
Are you putting this in your blog thing?