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Put down those eggs and drop that bacon!

Since I'd only just gotten settled into my "suite," you can imagine my surprise when just a mere three hours later, I hear a cheery, "Good Morning". The "morning" part was drawn out, like the person who said it knew damn well that not only was it NOT morning, but it was not going to be a good one either!

As I slowly came too, I became aware of a lot of "white" noise in the background, some hissing and the realization that my right arm felt like someone had stuck a needle in it and had forgotten to take it out. My first thought was, "What kind joint are they running here." That was quickly followed by a deep sigh of regret; "I shoulda stayed at a Holiday Inn!"

"We gotta get your weight," Nurse Cheerful smirked, rolling in what seriously looked to be a live-stock scale. Squinting up at the clock, I groaned, "Are you serious? You don't need my weight, I will just tell you a number and you can divide that number by four and then multiply the results by two and you will come close enough. Who the hell wants to know how much I weigh at 4:00am anyhow?"

Evidently, there were plenty of people that wanted to know and they all had the initials DR. before their names. Pretentious lot. Just because they have like 20 years of schooling under their belts, they think they can ask ME personal questions. Here's what I'd like to know Mister - Lady - Doctor - Sir, "Just how much do you weigh?"

Geez, these people don't take any time to get to know you, they just come barging into your room demanding answers to questions best left unanswered.

For instance, "Do you drink alcohol?" Now, I was not just born yesterday, (another problem) so I was completely prepared for that one. I knew; answer the question, and only the question. Do not give away any other valuable pieces of information that could later be held against you.

So, in keeping with the spirit of my Irish-Catholic roots, I solemnly answered, "A bit". Nurse Cheerful looked at me and smiled encouragingly, as if to say she completely understood the, "A bit" part and wanted me to tell her more.

So I went on to better explain, lest she get the wrong idea, (And God forbid, think I'm a lush). "Well, you know, drinking just a bit...perhaps if there is a funeral or wake, a party or it's Wednesday. But truly, just a bit and I do try to limit it to just wine and I am working on only drinking on days of the week that end in Y".

Humph, Nurse Cheerful was now wildly scribbling notes on a piece of paper and I could tell right away that they were ALL about me. If you wanna know the truth, I think she was just a tad jealous of me, lying there all splayed out in that well worn, "easy in, easy out," it's got nothing on Fredrick's of Hollywood dressing gown. Ha, I had on a gown! Imagine that!

Right then, I knew that as soon as Nurse Cheerful left my room I was gonna find my yoga pants and my true first love, Zippy and hi-tail it outta there. But as Nurse Cheerful turned to leave she mentioned something about my breakfast being on its way, so I figured, I paid for it, may as well enjoy a meal before I go.

Sure enough, I'd only closed my eyes for a second and before I knew it, enter Breakfast - Man. My Knight in Shining Armor, or actually, white lab coat, but same thing. He rolled the cart over, raised the head of my bed, propped my pillows. I couldn't help but think to myself, "Self, I think he likes you, he thinks your gown is sexy".

I smiled and batted my Lattise sodden eyelashes at him as he pulled the lovely silver dome off my meal and rolled the tray in front of me. Glancing down at the food, so as not to appear too eager, I feigned interest like when on an airplane and the stewardess delivers a tasty treat, I always try to appear uninterested, waiting until the last moment to lower my tray table. You know, in a very non-fat lady style.

Remember; never let them know you are too happy or too hungry, that's my motto.

My eyes swept over the waiting meal and suddenly I squeaked, Ah, excuse me, Breakfast - Man, I think there has been some mistake. I smiled sweetly and said, "It's no biggie and I am certain that you will be able to work this out with the Consigliore, but umm... Hun, this can't be my breakfast, this must be leftover from what the guy next door didn't eat"!

One egg scrambled (Who eats one egg?);

One turkey sausage link measuring a total of 2" (Yes, I checked);

One small, bite size little muffin that appeared to have already had a bite taken out;

One cup of decaf coffee-water:

4oz of orange juice.

So, one scrambled egg people? I get more eggs eating raw chocolate chip cookie dough standing at the kitchen counter than what was on that plate. And certain that the other two turkey sausage links had rolled under my bed; I buzzed Nurse Cheerful in to take a gander.

Turns out, it really was my breakfast, not the leftovers from the guy next door. And Nurse Cheerful, yeah she really was a bit more like Nurse Jackie.

Moral of the story: Check your blood pressure regularly, lose the excess baggage, exercise more, skip the bacon and limit your wine to a "bit" less!

Thigh Fire

So, recently I participated in my first 5k walk - pant - run, note the emphasis on the walk - pant part.

It was quite the eye opener for this previously sedentary gal, who has made a bit of a career (who am I kidding, I have no career) out of mocking those that participated in this malarkey.

Yep, I thought of myself as a wee bit superior lying splayed out on my gorgeous cream colored sectional eating bonbons and gulping fabulous wine. But all that crap came to a screeching halt a few weeks back when the guys in white coats came in, shaking their heads in unison, all thinking the same thing, "This one's gotta go".

They hauled me off my sofa, removed the bag of frozen Cameo's from my clasped fists, ignored my whimpering and whispered soft little meaningless taunts in my ear, "Stop it, stop it right now," they demanded. "Whoa, hey, wait just a fancy minute, I thought to myself, can't we all just spend some time getting to know each other? Why do we have to rush into all this diet and exercise?" And here I thought we were going to build a meaningful relationship.

But no, that was not meant to be, as evidenced by the nurse lady that actually had the nerve to give me a little tip, "Hun, why don't you look at it this way, if you put the bag of Cheetos down, while we get your weight, you may be pleasantly surprised." Surprised, how could she even think for a single minute that I'd want to friends with her, let alone that she could surprise me?

Friends, and I'm talking my good friends, they know how to treat me. My good friends ask me, "Puffed or crunchy, luv?" This new group, all they are interested in was, "Getting the blood pumping".

Well trust me, my blood was pumping that recent Saturday morning as I raced, begged and pleaded with myself to get to the finish line. The race had just started and already my faithless husband and daughter had gotten far ahead of me. I thought about just dashing into the nearest Panera and grabbing a quick cinnamon bun for moral support, or maybe if luck was on my side, I'd pass a gun store first. Maybe I'd pick up one of those ladylike guns and shoot them both for dumping me, right across their big white numbered T-shirt! That is, if I ever saw them again. I knew the odds were I might not survive all this ridiculous sweating.

Did the guys in the white coats really think I was healthy enough for all this activity? I should have demanded that they have put it in writing, "Loud, obnoxious, healthy female, most recently seen eating frozen Cameo cookies, has our permission to kill herself publicly in said 5K race." At least than my duplicitous family could sue their collective asses!

But truly, I am not a quitter. No sir, not a quitter this one. But a cheater? Why you betcha!

That is why I had the fight of my life on my hands when I was trotting down one stretch of the race and glanced to my far right and saw that the rest of the participants had made a right turn way up ahead and were coming back down towards me about two blocks over.

How simple it would have been to just take a cut through? I could get a lead on my traitorous husband and daughter and cross the finish line like a real athlete, you know, Rockyesque, style! I could almost hear the crowds cheering me on in my head. But then I told myself, "Self, how are you gonna feel if you cut corners and cheat in your very first 5K?" Self quickly assured me, that she'd feel just fine, remarkable actually!

But alas, it was not to be. First, I had that stupid white shirt on with the four big numbers plastered across the front and secondly, I had those four big numbers plastered across the front- yea, you get it. I'd cheat, but I didn't want to get caught cheating! I had standards.

Fortunately, cooler, less felonious heads prevailed and I trotted on. I'd spied one particularly big ass ahead of me and I thought, if she can do it, so can I. I began setting my sights on all the large backsides in front of me and decided my personal goal would be to pick out the biggest ass within eyesight and stride to reach and pass it. My new job was to beat all the other fatties to the finish line.

This worked fine, up until the point I had to use the balance of my water to put out the fire that had started between one guy's enormous thighs.

But in the end, I finished the race. I didn't come in first, not by a long shot. But I did get there just as the race coordinators where dismantling the finish line. I guess they hadn't heard about the fire...