Tuesday, April 29, 2008
When I became pregnant, I gave up vices. Ciggie smoking, excessive boozing and a steady diet of gummy bears and Ms. Vicky’s potato chips. Hell, I even started to work out, eat from the four food groups and feel pretty good about things (uhhh, don’t get me wrong here, now that I’m not incubating anymore, when the weekend a hits, so does a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon to my lips (or Merlot, or Shiraz, I actually still, at 35, don’t really know the difference).
But I digress. I still have one disgusting habit. I chew gum. Wait, no, I don’t just chew gum. In fact, I feel a little sorry for the gum I put in my mouth for the gnashing it is about to get. I beat the crap out of my gum. And don’t think that I daintily pop one piece into my mouth, no no no no no no. I need two to three of those bad boys in my mouth at once. This sometimes gets me in embarrassing situations. Now, when you cram three sticks of gum in your yap, when you have to get rid of it, you can’t just swallow it. You need to dispose of it. And when I need to get rid of gum, I need to get rid of it NOW! It’s like a moment of revulsion comes over me and I realize how disgusting it is to be smacking on three sticks of gum at once. So today, I’m dying to get off the bus because the gum in my mouth is driving me insane. So, picture me walking down my street (which, I should add, is filled with doctors, diplomats and retired judges, don’t ask me how they let us move into this neighbourhood). I’ve got my nice heels on, a skirt, I’m even carrying a briefcase today. And I let my wad of gum fly, I mean I launch it, I want that hunk of gum as far away from me as possible. I didn’t even look around to see who might be watching. If I had looked, I might have seen all the mom’s waiting to collect their kids from the bus watching me.
Ugh. I’m gross. I’ve reached my bottom. I’m going 12 –step my gum addiction.
*I feel the need to say I normally dispose of my gum in a tissue to toss in the trash at a later date – yesterday I was tissue-less and desperate. I’m not normally a spitter. Like I said, I think I’ve hit my bottom.