I skipped my run tonight because of V. Not that anything awful happened. Just because I wanted to pick up that fat little body and kiss that chubby face. And scrub that plump tush in the tub and read him some stories about cats and farm animals. And just love all over him.
Sometimes skipping out is the best thing ever.
And sometimes it’s not. Here’s a good example of why.
‘They’ say it always wise to rotate the side you carry your child on, to balance yourself. I guess I got in the habit of carrying V on my right side, carrying him on my left side just felt awkward. Like that side was my dead side. I am right-handed, not a sinister person. So while carrying V on my left-side freed up my right hand to do, I never felt properly balanced.
So I am a right-sided carrier.
So I’ve been doing a lot of running and spin class lately, which have been toning me up. I’ve been noticing it in my arms, especially my biceps. Damn position 2 and 3 and modified 3!!
I was checking myself out the other day and noticed some nice definition in my upper arms. I must admit I did a bit of flexing in the mirror. Some turns and flexes. A little bit of California posing.
And then a bit of pausing and scrutinizing. And then a puzzled face. And then a face of dawning comprehension.
My biceps are uneven.
Wanna know why?
Because I favour.
And because my son weights 31 pounds. So a constant 31 pounds on one side is guaranteed to mean some sweet muscle-building action.
I publicly flexed at work yesterday and demonstrated my left-sided lack of definition. There was laughter. I don’t blame them!
I either need to go and buy a 30 lb weight and repeatedly exercise with it, day and night. Or (less expensively) just carry V on my other side. Doing that might literally make me walk into walls, I’ll be so off-balanced. Or circles. Or just stand in one spot, looking lost.