It’s that time of year again. For the second birthday in a row some small specimen of questionable seafood has Roto-Rooted my intestines. Instead of eating a delicious birthday dinner with my Mom and Sister tonight I’m here. Again. With you–not so Tiiiiiny Bubbles.
Perhaps I’m being punished.
Are You There God? It’s me, Ann. Is shellfish really that big a deal? I know your beef with pig, but do you draw the line at mussels? Maybe you wondered what I’d look like after losing an entire dress size in one night…rather, in one hour. But that was last year.
Oprah? Gail? SUZE? I ignored my voice within. Watching Five and Two-Year-Old happily consume MISO SOUP (seaweed, tofu) and EDAMAME (soybeans) with kid-rigged chopsticks at lunch today gave me such a Momgasm, I ate the funky maki anyway. I knew it didn’t taste right, but why trust my most basic animal instincts? Forget the stairs, I’ll just hop in the elevator with Hannibal The Cannibal. He doesn’t look all that hungry.
Wait a minute…Kelly Corrigan! No wonder. Yup, this is a Kelly hangover. I channeled her Transcendence-ness before a table full of my girlfriends last night. I read a heartfelt toast written just for them, and now I realize I subjected my innocent lovely friends to Ann/Kelly on an empty stomach. These people bought me dinner and brought me gifts, and how do I repay them? Friends don’t let friends verbal-karaoke.
Next year I’ll just host a small prayer circle bedside.