It doesn't pay to be smug!

Shiny and glorious, my women's specific mountain bike sits in it's trainer courtesy of my lovely better half.  Thoughtful to no end, my better half has gone so far as to extend my handle bar grip in an effort to not strain my back and ensured that he covered my women's specific saddle in a lovely gooey gel seat cover so that my hiney is happily satisfied.

With all this courteous primping to my bike, you would think that this princess would be good to go, wouldn't you?  But you would be wrong.

Blustery and pouring with rain, Tuesday night was a complete bust for our usual 45 minute walk around our neighbourhood.  It was the third night in a row and I was becoming increasingly frustrated and worried that perhaps I would not meet my goal on weight loss for the week.  So with nothing better to do, me and my body mounted my bike in silent protest and broke instantly into a melodic rhythm.

Pumping away, I was glued to my boob tube watching Destination Truth.  Sadly, I am addicted to shows like that and Ghost Hunters.  There is just something about the hilarious host, Josh, that makes me giggle my face off.  Perhaps, it has something to do with the unexplained as well.  But if I was to be honest, the fact that seemingly normal adults go on monster hunting expeditions and get ridiculously excited when they find a paw print that turns out to be a black bear instead of Yeti, amuses me to no end!

Anywhoooo, for some reason I was so engrossed in this particular episode that I had not realized that I had been pumping away for almost an hour on the bike.  This being a very unusual occurrence for me, I must say, I was kind of proud of myself and my so called resilience.  To top that off, I was all smirky over the fact that I barely broke a sweat and sashayed my way down the stairs all the while flipping my hair and adding an extra wiggle to my hips just so I could gloat over my couch potato of a better half. 

Blissfully, I fell into a deep sound sleep while my better half tossed and turned all night from eating ice cream just prior to bed time.  As morning approached, I rolled over in bed feeling refreshed and alive and giving a "tsk tsk" sound to the haggard face of my better half along with a little quip about something to do with eating ice cream and no exercise and how I had no sympathy for him.  Yes, I know, I am lovely aren't I!

Feeling a tad smug, I jumped out of bed to.......... OH. MY. GAWD!!! the sorest ass I have ever had!  In my self induced Destination Truth coma, I had inadvertently ridden my bike far too long for this virgin patooty.  It had been several months since the last time I had ridden that torturous device.  Now, in a complete effort to find some sort of dignity, I took a deep breath and tried to walk normally and looked the other way so that my better half could not see my grimacing face.  Once in the bathroom, I could barely sit on the toilet and realized that insides of my butt cheeks were not just sore, but had taken on a whole new meaning of swelling.  In essence, I had given myself the BBBB syndrome (big butt bicycle bruising).

With clenched butt cheeks and gritted teeth, I tried to be as humanly normal around my better half as I possibly could.  After a very long day at work sitting on a heating pad and night of trying to pretend that nothing was wrong, I thought I had survived intact until.....

In an unforgettably painful moment, my better half slapped me on my butt and said:  "How's the ass sweet cheeks?" Then he laughed his face off and ate another bowl of ice cream.

Apparently, it doesn't pay to be smug.

Until Next Time.