Is Lent over yet, because this has been the longest f*#$ing 40 days of my life! What the f*$# was I thinking saying I would give up swearing? Clearly I had my head up my a$$. Don't go thinking I made it this long either before I broke down and let that first f-bomb drop. Nope, I gave in on DAY FOUR. After that it was a slow and steady decline into blue air.
The truth of the matter is I rarely curse in print because I really don't think it's necessary and because I am cognizant of the fact that it might not be for everybody. It's a bigger room you're in out here on the internet and I want to be respectful. That being said, when I'm with my very best friends, we could make sailors blush. In fact, I think we have.
I remember the first time I let a curse word slip in front of my parents. I could have died. It was such a foreign feeling. It wasn't long after that though that I slipped the curse word in on purpose and from then on, it was as much a part of my vocabulary as please and thank you was. It wasn't until I became a parent myself that I started to reflect more on my usage.
So what did I learn from this little exercise?
Two things. I learned that I'm really much more in control of my swearing than I thought I was. I also learned that swearing is good for your health. I swear I did not make this sh*t up to justify my bad behaviour. Look for yourself, Google backs me up.
Recently I fell off my bike for the first time in 25 years. I managed to hurt my shoulder, my elbow and my tailbone. My ego was shattered. If I had yelled "Fudge" when I hit the ground, I don't think I would have recovered as fast as I as did. Thank heavens I had the good sense to use the appropriate word. I'm doing it for my health now.
P.S. Don't think it's lost on me that my last blog was about quitting the gym. I don't even want to know what it says about me that I can quit the gym but not swearing. Hanging my head in shame.
P.P.S. I am still am still going to donate $50 to Because I Am A Girl Canada. I remain a caring curser.
A couple of weeks ago I thought to myself, “Self, when was the last time you went to the gym?” My brain strained to find the answer, then gave up after exhausting itself. *sigh* The fact that I can’t remember speaks volumes about my commitment to the gym.
And it’s not the numbers on the scale that concern me so much about my lack of attendance at the gym. It's these numbers:
Bi-weekly I pay $22.54, so each month that’s $45.08 for a grand total of $540.96 a year. Considering I’ve been to the gym a total of maybe 10 times in the last year, it’s cost me $54.09 each time I’ve gone. Ouch. That is definitely not good math.
Then there’s this little number game. It takes me 20 minutes to get to the gym, a minimum of one hour working out, 20 minutes to get home and then showered and dressed for a grand total of 2 hours and 15 minutes. I simply don’t have 2 hours and 15 minutes to spare 5 times a week.
Finally, there’s the associated guilt that comes along with not going to the gym. The mental toll is just far too high I tell you. I have enough mommy guilt to deal with. Sheesh.
This is not the first time I’ve joined a gym and helped them stay afloat out of the kindness of my heart. Nope, I’ve done this FOUR times before. Lured in by beautiful equipment, pretty spa rooms and the promise of hard abs I open up my automatic chequing account faster than you can say “sucker born every minute.” At age 42, I may have finally come to my senses.
The reality is this: the only thing that's lighter from my gym membership is my wallet. So on Monday I’m off to quit the gym for the last time. After that, I’m going to the bank to up my bi-weekly contribution to my tax-free savings account. From now on, I’m going to work out from home with a pair of running shoes, a few work out DVD’s, some weights and an app or two. I feel lighter already.
*image SomeECards.com
This morning I woke up to my husband saying, “Wow! Riots in London.”
“London, England?” I said.
“No, London, Ontario, at Fanshawe College.”
I sat there silent for a minute and the feeling that washed over me was not one of shock, because, frankly, why should London be immune? Only last June we saw riots in Vancouver over, what was that again? Oh right, a hockey game. And what were our fine youths in London rioting over last night? Well, it would seem St. Paddy’s Day was enough to set them off.
So, what was I feeling when I thought of riots in my hometown, at my old college, no less? Complete and total disgust.
If I may, let’s just talk for a minute about the overwhelming number of spoiled brats we have roaming around our society right now. These young adults* are our future. This actually gives me chills. What will they do when they don’t get the vacation time they ask for at work? How about if they don’t like their performance appraisal? Will they throw a Molotov cocktail when not allowed to text on the job?
Am I exaggerating? I don’t think so.
What were these “educated” kids so angry about? Were they screaming for lower tuition fees for Mom and Dad? Were they throwing their weight behind the Occupy movement? Nope. They were chanting Fanshawe. As in Fanshawe College. Sorry folks, these kids are about as deep as a puddle.**
I know I must seem the old curmudgeon here, but honestly, I remember when riots happened due to an injustice, and protests were meant to further public discussion. I'm from the age when walls were brought down and great men brought about great change through challenging the status quo. The riots we are witnessing of late aren’t due to people fighting injustice, but rather using it as a cool Facebook status.
Where are these kids getting this huge sense of entitlement? Why is there such a total lack of regard for public property? What are we missing here people? Anyone have the answer? Someone please enlighten me, because this culture of throwing public temper tantrums has got to stop.
*I do not use 'kids' intentionally here, as anyone in college should, by all standards, be responsible for their own decisions.
** Before you write and tell me that there are many young adults that are responsible and caring citizens, I know that. I am not trying to paint our youth with a broad stroke, but it definitely seems to me that we a have a large portion of people who still haven't got past the toddler years.
Hero Image from Toronto Sun.
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