Over the weekend, I was an adventurous soul. I LEFT THE HOUSE! More than once. For me, that’s an extreme sport. Or some kind of World Record. But the adventure didn’t stop there.
When I noticed my daughter doing somersaults, I remembered the roundoffs I perfectly landed during my cheerleading days. Soooooo … I initiated Dumb Ass 2.0 and went for it. I did a somersault! My husband described it as “more like someone lit you on fire and you were trying to put it out.” But I did a somersault! It had been 20 years since I attempted to do anything gymnasticky. Even though it was far from attractive, I felt pretty damn good about getting my head under my legs. Soooooo … I initiated You’re Kidding, Right? 3.1. If I could sort of land a somersault, what was stopping me from doing a headstand? Ummm, can you say gravity?
Not listening to the little voice inside urging me to quit the shit, I did the headstand of all headstands. I was upright and balanced, all of five seconds, until my tits fell off and my vagina caved in. Gravity won. I was too old to be inverted and the landing made that clear as day. BOOOOM! (sha-ka-lacka)
If you felt the earth quake around two o’clock Sunday afternoon, that was just me. I’m now frantically searching Pinterest for a way to glue my boobs back on and pull my netherparts out of my ribcage.
For the record, I did not look like this:
Oh, no. I looked more like this: