Arriving back home several hours later, I still feel like a bloated cow from all the food we ate at lunch. Claire and I stopped for some fancy cupcakes on the way home but those will have to wait until later. And not to toot my own horn, but… Toot Toot! Mine are way better, but this is a nice treat every now and then, plus my kitchen stays clean this way. Win Win.
Claire heads up to her room to read the new book I bought her today. I head upstairs to put away my day’s purchases. I fear that when I put the clothes in the closet they may be rejected and spit out by my comfy jeans and t-shirts. Suddenly I begin to sing. “One of these things doesn’t belong here, one of these things just isn’t the same, one of these things is not like the others…”
Get a grip, Madi! It’s a dress and shoes, it’s not like you’ve grown a second head. Although, I think the second head would look more natural on me than that dress and those shoes.
As I hang up the dress and look at the shoes again, I feel a slight sense of pride. I own a slutty dress and awesome whore shoes—not to be confused with horse shoes, although I may sound like a horse clopping around in them. Tucked neatly between my standard sundresses, t-shirts, cardigans, capris, jeans and sandals is a killer outfit. I am going to rock this on girl’s night out…? It sounds more like a question than a statement at this point.
After checking on Claire to find her on her bed “watching a movie” with her eyes closed, sound asleep, I decide to head down to the kitchen and indulge in one of the gourmet cupcakes we bought earlier. I should just shove the cupcake against my left thigh because that’s where it’s headed. “Look out below!” I say as I take a less than lady-like bite of red velvet deliciousness.
As I sit and scarf down the rest of the cupcake before Claire catches me, I hear my phone beep. Oooh, someone texted me. It’s like a little electronic gift when my phone beeps. I love getting messages from people. Well, most people. I should clarify that when it’s Andy, I equate that beep to a bag of flaming dog poop being left on my doorstep.
When I check my screen, I see it’s Taylor.
–Put the cupcake down and step away–
How the hell did she know I was eating a cupcake? This is all very ‘the call is coming from inside the house’. I look around and check outside the windows. I wouldn’t put it past Taylor’s realm of possibility to be watching me through my windows.
–How did you know I was eating a cupcake? Where R U?–
–Heard from G, said you bought shit cakes–
–What do you want??? Freak!–
–You didn’t earn that cupcake; running from humiliation doesn’t burn calories–
–I beg to differ–
–If it did you’d be a skeleton. Better see you tomorrow @ 9 no excuses–
–Can’t show my face again, mortified–
–Then walk in backwards–
–Bitch!–
–Yep. C U 2morrow, or else–
Why did I just hear ‘dun dun duuuun’ after I read ‘or else’? She doesn’t scare me! OK, that’s a lie. She does a little. Maybe I can show my face at the gym again if I wear huge sunglasses, a floppy hat that hides 3/4 of my face and bring reinforcements. I will make Savannah come with me. Maybe if she is there half naked it will distract from me. She has a membership and hardly ever goes anymore. Time for her to make use of it. I pull her up from my contacts list.
–V, tomorrow morning. You. Me. Gym. 9 am.–
–Nope. Don’t wanna–
–Don’t make me pull your hair. And I won’t smack your ass like Luke does–
–Fine. See you at 9–
I decide to call it a night and head to bed. Maybe I will watch a little TV and pray for the gym to burn down overnight. I tuck Claire into bed and head to my room. After changing into jammies, I climb into bed and start flipping through the channels. I settle on reruns of my favorite sitcom from the 90’s about a group of FRIENDS. I curl up and offer a silent prayer to the heavens above to please start a small fire in the gym—not enough to do any major damage, but just enough so Taylor will have to close if for a few months so I can regain my pride.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! 7:30am right on the dot! Ugh, I feel like I should have a fever or something. Maybe typhoid or scurvy; something that would prevent me from going to the gym today. Nope, picture of health. Damnit!
I change into my gym attire and search my closet for a wig or mask from a prior Halloween—something to hide my face—and shockingly, I come up empty. I guess I will have to go to the gym in my Humiliated Madi costume. Why should today by any different?
I wake up Claire and decide that we will hit Starbucks before the gym. Don’t judge me. I need copious amounts of caffeine in order to function. Today will just be hot tea; I don’t need the extra calories after last night’s cupcake-induced coma.
As Claire and I head into Starbucks I see that my new super favorite and happy barista Tiffani with an i is behind the counter. Yay. I get to start my day with hot tea and a side of snarky bitch. Maybe if I’m lucky, she will lick the rim of my cup before she makes it. I’m sure I am not her favorite person these days. I am fairly certain that Mark had words with her after our H2O issue yesterday. As I approach the counter, I can physically see her attitude change as she huffs, pasting a plastic smile on her face that could give Barbie a run for her money.
“Good morning, welcome to Starbucks. What can I get you today?” (Insert eye roll)
“Grande black tea, please, with room for cream, and a kid’s chocolate milk with one pump of chocolate, ice and whip. Thank you.” (Bats eyelashes)
“I assume you would like a WATER with that too?” (Insert sarcastic tone)
“No thanks, Tiffani with an i, just the tea and milk. Thanks.” (Insert removal of tip from jar)
As I walk over, retrieving our beverages, I turn around and almost run smack dab into someone with my hot tea. “Oh my gosh. Are you OK? I’m so sorr…”
Holy crap, it’s him! It’s Mr. HotTottie. The lone audience member that caught my Vanilla Ice tribute performance. Really, God? Really? I thought we had a deal!?!?!?!
“No no, it’s my fault. Are ya’ll okay?” he asks with a deep and sultry voice, and oh dear baby Jesus is that a southern accent I detect? I think I need to change my panties.
“Are ya okay?” Long pause. “Hello?” He waves his hand in front my face. Snap out of it, Madi!
“Oh, uh yes I’m thanks, asking for fine.”
He looks at me, flashing a half smile. “Uh, I mean yes I’m fine, thanks for asking.” Nice recovery, asshat.
“Alright then, you have yourself a great day,” he smiles and gives me a wink before walking out the door. Really, he just winked at me? Are you freaking kidding me? I need to change my yoga pants.
I sit with Claire for a minute and we enjoy our drinks before we head off to the gym. Truth be told, I just need to regain my composure and get feeling back in my legs. He spoke to me. Holy crap on a cracker—he speaks, and it’s beautiful.
As we walk into the gym we see Taylor behind the counter, Claire runs over to her and gives her a big hug and begins to tickle her. Taylor loves Claire and they play tickle monster all the time—little known fact, Taylor is SUPER ticklish. She takes Claire to the kid’s center for me while I sign in. As I head over to the farthest possible treadmill—yes, the treadmills—I see Savannah is already here and walking.
“You’re early. That never happens.”
“I know, right? Luke got me up early so I figured I would get a jump start on the workout. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve been here.” I don’t want to know how or why Luke got her up early, but I have no doubt that it involves dirty sweaty things and their own form of workout.
“OK. Well, I’m going to walk for about an hour then head home.” I put in my ear buds and keep the music down to a very dull roar so that I can still hear myself if I start to sing. No need to rehash the free show from yesterday. I’m not being paid to provide a floor show.
As I start to get into my groove and set a good steady walking pace, I happen to look around and find a set of eyes on me. NO FREAKING WAY! It’s Hotness, party of one, from Starbucks! Don’t panic.
I give a quick flustered smile and cut off eye contact uber quick. No need to prolong the embarrassment, just enough to acknowledge that I realize who he is.
Now, move on. He smiles back and nods his head towards me. No, he was supposed to move on, not smile. OK, we have established that we recognize each other from Starbucks. With any luck he will have no clue I was the one singing yesterday.
In an effort to look cool, I step up the pace on the treadmill. I don’t want this guy thinking I just stroll along. I want him to be impressed with my mad workout skills. He is over in the free weight area with the cool kids. I work out on the side with the pasty kids and bookworms.
I get it going up to an almost run—OK, it’s more of a light jog—but that’s a HUGE deal for me. I keep it up for about 20 minutes until my lungs burn and I ‘m gasping for air like a fish out of water. OK, Madi, cut the crap, slow it down, wrap it up and get out of here before you have a chance to do something stupid. Well, more stupid.
I crank the speed and incline down on the treadmill. As the belt comes to a stop, I take my towel and wipe down the surfaces. I turn around to take a step off the treadmill, and this is when I decide to do my most graceful face plant onto the floor. Apparently, there is a reason you are supposed to cool down after a workout. My legs were still in forward motion mode and my brain was not.
The only thing I remember after the sudden rush of concrete floor hurdling towards my face was the lovely “oooumphrtth” noise I made as I hit the floor and the edge of the treadmill.
“Madi! Jesus, are you OK?” I hear Savannah exclaim with a laugh. I open my eyes and look around quickly, hoping no one saw that but her. DENIED! I now have an audience, including Mr. HotTottie. You remember him, from Starbucks and my solo performance.
“I umm, yes, OK, I’m fine,” I jump up in order to look cool, like I meant to do that, but my legs are still like Jell-O. Dusting off my legs and hands, I see Mr. HotTottie eying me up and down. Savannah has chosen this moment to head to the locker room to get our things.
“Are you OK?” he asks, with his dreamy southern drawl and a genuine look of concern on his face.
If I say no will you keep talking to me?
“Yes, I’m fine, thanks,” I reply with a confident smile. Confident I look like an asshole.
The crowd has starting to disband and go back to feeling the burn.
“Looks like a pretty nasty scuf on your arm there,” he points to my left forearm, gently touching it.
OH MY GOD, he touched me! It sent an electrical pulse up my arm. Is that the spark or tingle they speak of when you meet your soul mate?
Oh, right, that’s probably just nerve damage from the header I just took.
“I’m good. I think it’s my ego that’s bruised more than anything,” I mumble with a pathetic smile and shoulder shrug.
“Well, maybe I should get you some ice… Ice Ice Baby,” he grins with a laugh and wink.
Moment of internal prayer: Dear Jesus, I thought we had an understanding. I wouldn’t use your name in vain or scream it out during an orgasm if you stopped humiliating me on a regular basis. The deal’s off!
“Wow, so you did see that. That’s outstanding and not at all humiliating,” I sigh and smile
“No, I didn’t miss that. It was kind of epic. I’ve always enjoyed the classics.”
Classics? DUDE. What the hell? “Yes, you can’t go wrong with Bach or Vanilla Ice. They are both known for their timeless works of art.”
Mr. HotTottie throws his head back and laughs. Wow, I think he even laughs with an accent.
“I’m Declan, Declan Hillier,” he extends his hand to me.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Madi, Madi Kennedy. This is all very Bond, James Bond,” I reply.
“Hahahaha, that’s excellent.”
I start to laugh. I fear that if I don’t I will just burst out crying, so I might as well join him in laughing at me.
“So are you really OK, Madi? You’re not just putting on a brave face?”
“No, I really am OK. Nothing a little alcohol can’t fix, or maybe that memory eraser flashy thingy from Men in Black. Same diff!”
“Personally, I would go with the alcohol. The flashy thing probably causes cancer. Well that, and it being fictional and all,” he chuckles.
“Riiight. That too,” I smile. “Well it was nice to meet you, Declan. I really should go scrape together the last bit of my self-esteem and get going so I can go lick my wounds,” Eww, that sounded gross. “I mean, put ice on them,” I add as I start to limp backwards towards the main lobby. “Oh God, never mind. It was nice meeting you,” I finish with an over the shoulder wave as I leave.
I swing by the kid’s center to pick up Claire. When we come back through the lobby, Declan is gone. I’m sad that I didn’t get to see that fine specimen again, but relieved that I can sneak out quietly with what remains of my dignity and not cause any more of a scene. Savannah walks up with my purse, and a shit eating grin on her face. “So, was that the hot guy that caught you singing?”
“Yes, how’d you guess?”
“Just a hunch,” she says with a laugh.
Claire looks at my arm. “Ewww, what happened? That looks bad. Do you want me to fix it when we get home?”
“Do you have the ability to turn back time, sweetheart?”
Claire gives me a confused look and I laugh. “Just a kiss will make it all better.” I bend over and Claire gives me a big smooch, and then kisses my arm and shin. “There, all better.”
“Yes, thank you.” I love this kid.
As Claire and I head home, Savannah calls to check on me and asks if Claire and I want to come over to go swimming and have lunch later. Of course, with my daughter being born part fish, she loves anything to do with water, with the minor exception of taking a bath. I don’t quite understand that. It’s the same as a pool, only smaller and you add a bar of soap. Whatever, she’s weird. I think she gets that from Andy’s side of the family. All of the weird crap I can’t explain or the odd food things she mixes together like watermelon with ranch dressing (gag) I blame on Andy.
When we get back to the house, I head up to the shower and Claire starts to play on the Wii. “Claire, I’m going to take a shower, I’ll be down in a bit. Be good, OK?”
“OK, Mommy, I will. Pinkie promise.”
***