Friday, May 18, 2007

The Only Time My Thighs Don't Touch is When I Stand With My Feet Kinda Far Apart

I keep seeing photos of people whose thighs don't touch, celebrities mostly, and also models, and I kind of want to ask them how that happens, but they're just photos, so how could I? And then last weekend I saw a girl with thighs so far apart that I'm sure she couldn't have made them touch even if she really, really wanted to, so far apart that you could have fit the Lincoln Tunnel between them and driven great numbers of vehicles side by side through them, and I had to stop myself from obsessing over crafting the perfect opening line so that I could ask her about it. I mean, what am I going to say, "Hi, we're both going into H&M! May I ask a few questions about your freakishly tiny thighs?" Rude and embarrassing! And yet, I wanted desperately to ask. I'm just sayin'.

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In less than an hour I'll be boarding the train to meet my dear friend Rachel in Grand Central. She's flying in for the weekend, and we are both doing something we have never done before, something daring and fascinating and downright remarkable. We are getting pedicures! I KNOW! You are probably both squeeing with delight over the thought of our feet looking adorable and gasping in horror to think of what those poor pedicurists will encounter on our previously unpedicured feet. Try to focus on the adorableness, and I will not mention a thing about the state of my feet except to point out that this is the first spring I've had all my toenails intact since my pre-Pikes Peak Marathon days. The pedicurists can thank my long work hours and my upcoming wedding for that favor.

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I guess I haven't mentioned yet that I am not running the Pikes Peak Marathon this year. So! Hey! Everybody! I'm not running the Pikes Peak Marathon this year! It has a lot to do with planning the wedding while working a whole darn lot, but the truth is that it's also about the tan lines. I cannot be having a weirdy runner's tan this year; there's not time for it to fade before the wedding, and the dress I've chosen isn't exactly a high-necked, long-sleeved Victorian era number.

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Crap, I'm running late, and I haven't even made Rachel's bed yet. I guess this is all you get. Weekend, enjoy, have fun, and all that...

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