Someone Is Going To Feel The Burn

By Lyssa Graham

 

          It is, of course, my husband’s fault. It is always my husband’s fault. He agreed to that, it was in the vows, I remember it clearly.

          This whole mess started with an commercial featuring several scantily clad and probably very snotty women rolling around on the back of a powerful yacht. And rolling around in the sand on the beach, and rolling around in the water, and so on. Much like Weebles meets Playboy.

         Naturally, my “I only have eyes for you, honey,” husband was unable to keep the drool from flowing down his chin. He swears it was the yacht that made him spitty but I don’t believe it for a minute. The evidence is against his claim.

          You see, he never said a word about the yacht. Not a peep about it’s smooth lines or seductive glow. Perhaps, as he insists, he was struck dumb by the sheer beauty of the yacht.

           Don’t you believe it. Not struck dumb at all, my friends. He managed to comment twice during the 60 second commercial and neither time did he mention the boat, or the sand, or the lovely water.

           He did, however, mention the girls. Twice. Did I mention that? Twice.

           All women know what happens when a spouse or boyfriend or even girlfriend compliments another woman. It does not matter what the loved one’s intentions were in the heat of the stupid comment moment. It does even really matter what was said. What matters is what women hear.

           HE SAYS: “Wow, that bikini clad hottie, in whom I have absolutely no interest in ever meeting, dating or marrying, sure has nice legs.”

           A fairly inoffensive comment but unfortunately, not what she hears at all.

           SHE HEARS: “Wow, that woman sure has nice legs. Much better than your stumpy old things. Her legs are so incredible and yours are so surprisingly hideous that I am now wondering why I married you in the first place. I know, I’ll start stalking Ms. Great Legs and you can run off and join a convent somewhere. You’re going to have to hide those hideous legs away to protect humanity. No one should have to see those. Oh, and by the way, your butt ain’t what it used to be either.”

           And just like that, the happy-go-lucky wife has developed a serious self image problem and is going to need serious therapy. Hope you’re happy, Mr. Big Mouth.

           We all know what happens when wives need therapy. Somebody is going to pay through the nose. So off I went on a shopping expedition. It’s not as bas as it sounds, I’m a good wife. And he has my credit cards so it’s not like thrift wasn’t the order of the day.

           I bought, and I must have been hormonal, an exercise dvd. It’s my first. I’m very excited about this new me. Screw those bikini models, my legs are at least as long as theirs are and I do have the proper number. Just give me some time with my new exercise dvd and hubby will start drooling all over the place.

          At least that’s the plan. I have a bad history with exercise. Two problems really, I am incredibly lazy and, worse, I am incredibly uncoordinated. Also unable to tell left from right. Which, as you might imagine, leads to problems in aerobics classes. So make that three problems.

It only takes two or three spectacular collisions on the mat after I find myself going to the wrong left before I’m asked gently to think about taking yoga instead.

         And I have. It was fun. One time I even broke a sweat. Just a little, maybe a glisten or a glow. I might have stayed with yoga but it just got too spiritual for me. I was doing a standup gig one night and ran into my yoga instructor. All well and good until I spotted her throwing her leg over her ear for shots at the bar. After that, I couldn’t concentrate on the spiritual side because of the overwhelming jealousy. Mine. What a neat trick! Who knew yoga was practical? Or profitable?

         Doesn’t matter, I’m on target now with my very own, do-it-yourself fitness plan on dvd. Which, it appears, was produced in the same studios/hotel rooms as Ron Jeremy’s entire back catalog. Pun most definitely and with great glee, intended.

         Have you ever really listened to an exercise dvd? Those women instructors sound like they’re just one part time gig away from a porno flick. “Now sweat. And pump. And can you feel the burn? Sigh and moan and stretch and really feel it now. Deeper, that’s it.” Who are these people?

         None of them look as if they could walk and chew gum at the same time. Unless it burned lots of calories. For that matter, nobody human can smile and do sit ups at the same time. It’s just not possible. And do they honestly expect me to be able to hop, move my arms, tighten my stomach and hold my head up at the exact same time? While looking left? And not forgetting to breathe?

          Seriously, does that ever happen? Do people actually forget to breathe? Shouldn’t we just let those people go and thank Darwin for it?

          I may have to turn this exercise dvd into a charming coaster. There’s no way I’m going to be able to do this. I broke a glisten just trying to open the dvd in the first place. This just isn’t for me.

          You know, maybe my husband really was drooling over the yacht. Why would he lust for another woman when he’s got someone as fun and exciting to hang with as me? It’s a thrill a minute living with me, as you can imagine. And hubby does like boats. Come to think of it, he may have said, “Wow, with fuel tanks that big, that boat must have some serious legs on it.”

 

Lyssa Graham is a standup comic, voice actor and all around funny girl based on Galveston, TX. She has great legs, thank you very much. She can be reached at Lyssa@LyssaGraham.com . She’ll be happy to explain the Ron Jeremy reference and pun (which we can all agree is brilliant) upon request.

  

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