The stomach flu. I would welcome a weeklong case and embrace it like a long lost puppy. Look, I'm not buying diet pills or skipping carbs or getting a bargain on someone's slightly used treadmill collecting clothes currently just a wee bit too tight around the middle. You know, only a wee bit too snug when sitting down. Or breathing.
No, I'd rather lose my glutton of holiday indulge-bulge the good old fashioned and reliable way. The stomach flu. The bonus? I catch up on my sleep and no one in this family will want to be near me. I'd even get the bathroom all to myself without interruptions. Well, except for the dogs but at least they don't steal my favorite black turtleneck or last Q-tip. I would like to know what they're thinking in there but then again, maybe I'm better off not knowing.
I figure the flu has got to beat all the new fangled exercise trends listed, with predictability, in today's paper. And can I just mention here, I resent reporters pulling me into their piece as if they called and asked my opinion or plan of action. According to one AP piece, "We're going to salsa like we're on Dancing With The Stars and try countless types of 'fusion' as workout options become both more diverse and more personalized." Who is this "WE" of which she writes and didn't her 7th grade English teacher tell her she only needs the adjective prior to the first noun since it applies to both nouns?
"Fusion", I learned, in the case of hot new exercise trends, refers to blending more than one type of exercise for a complete workout. Like cardio and weights. Ooooh, original! Or iPods and running shoes. And this is a new concept? Bus Stop Mommies have been using the fusion technique for centuries.
Beating the area rugs with the straw broom cleaned the rug, raised the heart rate (cardio) and toned upper body muscles (strength conditioning).
Chasing toddlers, sharing the Cheerios and retrieving the favorite stuffed animal tossed from the highchair for the 47th time is fusion perfected.
This AP chick was talking to you too. You and I are the "We's": "You're not going to win the war on your holiday boozing and binging alone. So call the drill sergeant, channel your inner Spice Girl or get better acquainted with your new friend, the stripper pole." First she tells us we're boozers, we need military reform, skimpy clothes, better cheekbones and now we're strippers?
Gross me out. I'd rather have the stomach flu. It's very Fusion, you know.