Remember this post from my Gratitude Journal where I expressed gratitude for all my little fingers and toes after I cut the pinky on my left hand with a baking sheet? You don't have to go back and click the link now because I just gave you a gist of the whole post and you probably know what I'm talking about. Today, it's time to send out gratitude for another part of my body because THE UNIVERSE has reminded me to be thankful yet again. The name of this body part is already in the title of this post and if you're not the dullest person in the world, you know what I'm talking about. If you're going to feel offended then I would rather not hang out with you, so you may please stop reading RIGHT NOW. There, you have been warned.
You see, I happen to be a right-side kind of person. I sleep only on the right side of the bed, occupy the right side of the couch and sit on the seat that's on the right side even at the movies. In the future, if we ever get a car, I will never let The Husband drive because I just HAVE to be on the right side. I like to believe that this obsession with the right side has something to do with my being right at all times. You can come up with your own theories. I'd definitely appreciate that. But in the end, only my theory will be right, just so you know. The problem with being a right-side person is that I tend to lean to the left a lot because The Husband is always on my left. This in turn leads to my putting more weight on my poor left "ass-et".
Two days ago, a tiny zit on said left "ass-et" (Praise the Lord for putting it right there, of all the places on my barely-5-foot-tall body, especially with all the forehead space available) has been making life miserable for all inhabitants of 22 Nelson Street. When I sit down on the couch I go OUCH. When I turn to The Husband in my sleep, I go OUCH. In fact, I have been OUCHING so much that our neighbours' ginger cat has left them for good, and the stone exterior of our building has begun to crumble. I'm happy to report that the condition is far, far better as of today morning and that the foundation of my building (and of my marriage) has not been shaken beyond repair with yet another OUCH.
Which brings me to the realisation that I need to be thankful for my "ass-et(s)". If only I could go back in time and tell my teenage self that I needn't worry about growing tall because everything else was growing JUST FINE. And that compared to my future husband's almost non-existent "ass-et", mine was going to be GOLD. Of all the body parts that didn't grow, this wasn't going to be one. In fact this would grow so well that it would be the one striking feature on this barely-5-foot-tall body. I'm pretty sure that if I were to fall off a building to land on my "ass-et", I'd bounce off and land on the roof of the building on the opposite side. If a moving train were to collide with my "ass-et" from the side, it would beyond a doubt, be derailed. In fact, if I were to play football, I could butt-butt instead of headbutt and the ball would most definitely find itself on the fucking moon. So here I send many many thanks for both my left AND my right "ass-et" (but especially my left "ass-et") for all the weight they handle while also making me look good. The tiny zit that had temporarily found a home on my left "ass-et" has taught me that you can't survive a day without sitting or lying down and your "ass-et" plays a very important role in making that possible. Never take thine "ass-et(s)" for granted, people. Be ye not so stupid.
If not this post, then at least that creepy picture of me eating my hair has hopefully made you uncomfortable.