FLUFFmerican Idol

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Several months ago, I signed up for the Run or Dye Color run in Dallas, TX.  I remember seeing all the pictures on Facebook last year and it looked like so much fun so when a friend asked for people to join her team, I was all in.   I did absolutely nothing to prepare for this race, well….other than eating a well balanced diet and going to bed early the night before the race.

And by “eating a well balanced diet and going to bed early” I mean “drinking way too much and getting minimal sleep.”

When I woke up at whatthefluff:30, I really really really didn’t want to drive all the way to Dallas to get my sweaty azz handed to me on a sweaty platter.  But…I got up anyways.  I made myself a large cup of coffee and headed off to my friends house to meet up with the rest of the crew.  On our way to the race, we stopped for coffee so I proceeded to buy another large coffee.  Then, once we got close to the race, I drank my spark.  Seemed like a good idea at the time. 

Once we got there, I was ready to WORK.  I needed to pee but the lines were too long so I just held it.  I knew I’d prolly finish the race in record time, you know, with all the training I did.  As we totally cut in front of a thousand people at the starting line, we got tricked in to thinking we were starting no less than ten times.  It was a true beating and took FOREVER. 

We all started the race running.  I lasted approximately 17.2 seconds before I started walking.  I just said eff this shyt.  I’m walking it.  The race was Run OR Dye.  I was already dying so there really wasn’t any need to run.  I was tired.  I was hungry and I was hot.  Every time I tried to run, I swore a little pee was dripping down my leg.  I had the ol’ kegel fully contracted to hold it in, but as any moms know, once you’ve had kids, you’re ability to hold in pee is greatly affected.  #blownoutvagproblems

About midway through the race, I realized a few things:

1.        I managed to grab a sports bra that I haven’t worn since I was 13.  It had zero support and was a little big so my lady lumps were giving a ‘low five’ to my belly button

2.       I forgot to put on deodorant so every time I moved my arms, a little bit of my armpit skin ripped off; and

3.       The two coffees and spark have fully set in and now I have the effing shakes. 

As I walked alone, I became more and more aware of my underboob sweat, my sticky pits and my now fully shaking hands.  I was in a bit of a blur as I stared at the people around me, sizing up the poor patrons that would be carrying me out of here when I pass out. 

Then, out of nowhere, there she was.  Giant Bic Band, giant sunglasses and giant boobs.  I’m pretty sure that’s Mama effing Laughlin.  I talked about Mama Laughlin in my very first post almost a year ago, HERE. 

I kept walking and decided that I was in no condition to meet her.  In fact, I’ve never WANTED to meet her.  We all get this idea of how a person is based on what we see on tv, or in their blog.  It’s like meeting Ryan Gosling.  In my mind, he’s a sensual lover, likes to snuggle and listens to every word I say.  But what if I met him and not only was he a complete tool but he also had a tiny dingus?!?!!?  Some things are just better left alone. 

That’s how I felt about meeting Mama..err Brandi.  I have this idea of how she is based on the words she writes on a blog.  What if I meet her and she’s a snobby slut?  I mean…then I’d have to cut a bytch.

 

Yes, I just compared her to Ryan Gosling, the sensual lover.  That’s beyond creepy but we’ll just skip past that. 

As I walked past her, I decided that I would regret it if I didn’t at least say hi.  So, I turned and said, “um….are you Brandi”.  She smiled and said “yes I am”.

 

Oh…good…she doesn't seem like a snobby slut. 

“Hi, I’m one of your stalkers”. 

Oh….good….I seem.....akward. 

I walked with her and a couple of other girls for a few minutes.  I prayed that they didn’t realize that my eyes were nearly swollen shut because of the Miller Light sweat pouring in to them and that I was shaking like I just came off a four day cocaine high.  (I’ve never been on a four day cocaine high so I really don’t know if that causes the shakes but all the people on Cops seem to have the shakes so I assume that’s par for the course)

I took the opportunity to tell Brandi what a major motivating force she’s been for me and that I owe my 72 pound weight loss to her.  She gave me a high five and said, “great job!”  I also told her that I started blogging and she asked me to email her my blog info and she’d check it out.  I’m sure she was kidding but the jokes on her because I sure did send it to her the second I got home.  I’m lame like that. 

One girl asked if I was on IG.  Since I’m super cool, I wondered if that was a street name for some new drug, then realized that she meant Instagram.  I really don’t remember what I said, but I do remember that Brandi asked for my IG ID.  As I rattled it off to her, I was certain she was typing “stupid shaky bytch smells” in to her phone. 

Up ahead, I saw my crew in line at the port o potty so I told Brandi it was great to meet her and asked if she’d take a picture with me.  One of my friends walked up and said, "I know...you want a picture".  I like that everyone knows about my obsession with ML.  

What?  That’s totally what I looked like that day.  Perfect makeup and hair in Texas heat?  Yes and Yes. I've also taken the time to show you where my boobs SHOULD be.  You're welcome.  Standing next to Brandi, my chest looks like that of a 15 year old boy.  Boob job in my future so start saving up, Mr. Fluff.

We finished the race and somehow managed to get very minimal color on us.  In fact, the most color I got was on my feet.  I was wearing two pair of socks and shoes so how the hell this happened is beyond me.  Everyone at the finish line looked like a Purple People Eater so I assume they got a hell of a deal on the purple shyt.  We were glad the race was over and decided that doing a 5k in June...in Texas is just cray. 

I will say that I’m SO glad I got my azz out of bed and went because I got to meet my FLUFFmerican Idol.  Not only did she start following me on Instagram (hair flip) but she also started following my blog (double hair flip).  I don't know about you but I think that pretty much makes us besties.  I've already ordered our matching necklaces...

I can only hope that I will someday give a lucky reader a lady boner from meeting me.  A girl can dream.    

Knuckle bumps for Mama! You rock my fat off.