Tuesday, June 22

Father's Day a/k/a Excuses Day

For some reason I convinced myself that I couldn’t exercise on Father’s Day. My excuses were varied, creative, and highly effective. The mind is a powerful thing and I put it toward evil purposes on Sunday. Take a gander at some of these beautiful reasons for not working out.

Excuse #1: I needed to be around in case Michael wanted to go somewhere.

Even though Michael told me his plan was to watch the U.S. Open all day, I felt it necessary to be at home to take over parenting responsibilities on the off chance he changed his mind and wanted to, I don’t know, go to Taco Bell or something. So I was at DEFCON 1—on high alert all day, prepared to handle the children while he went out to enjoy a Volcano Burrito. But no parenting/Mexican food emergency arose. (Big surprise.)

Excuse #2: My legs were tired.

After running the Corporate 4-Miler on Thursday and exercising on Friday, my shins were tight and I needed to rest. That was actually a reasonable excuse—for Saturday—but I stretched it into Sunday. You know, ‘cuz it sounded plausible.

Excuse #3: I had to prepare Michael’s Father’s Day meals.

Our tradition is for Michael to pick his favorite meals for the day. His selections are usually solidly in the “bad” category. Knowing my dietary restrictions he made some selections that were good choices for me too, which was very sweet. He’s trying to be supportive, even though it’s killing him. He did, however, buy a cheesecake for dessert.

Thus I needed to slave away in the kitchen all day. Uh huh. Not so much.

Michael made breakfast. Of course he did, I don’t do breakfast. There’s too much commotion in the morning and I need coffee, so focusing on cooking isn’t my strong suit. If you want to eat in the morning in my house then, GET IT YOURSELF! Sorry, I was channeling morning Dianna there for a minute.

I did make lunch though, Pollo Reggiano burgers (a yummy chicken burger) and potato salad. Well, I made the burgers. Michael bought the salad. And for dinner, Michael made his famous chili.

The reality is, I cook more on a typical Wednesday than I did on Father’s Day, but that was my excuse. Making those burgers was time consuming you know. All that patting and smushing, it takes skill and whole minutes to complete. There’s no way I had time to go to the gym. Not between being at DEFCON 1 for a parenting crisis and mixing burger meat. I’m telling you I was a busy lady. No, really.

Excuse #4: I had a headache.

Yeah, sure I did. But no one knew the truth. Ask Michael. He still can’t figure out if I’m lying or not.

That was it. My plethora of excuses. And after a successful day of avoiding the gym, I rewarded myself with a slice of cheesecake.

I know.

What happened to Emily Post from the wedding, you ask? That good girl I became, capable of politely eschewing all unhealthy food options?

I told her to shut it and pass the whipped cream.

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