Lament: One More Week

So, my birthday is a week today.

Shit.

I'm nervous, guys.  Fo' realz.  (I think using the apostrophe after the fo just cost me some street cred).  Last time I weighed myself, I was exactly 131, only one more pound to go.  Seems like that should be a good thing, right?  But here's the thing--my weight never seems to have any rhyme or reason to it.  It's my version of Russian Roulette.  I get on the scale, close my eyes, and pull the trigger.  Maybe I'll be 134, maybe 131.  Who knows?  I just hope I don't kill myself each and every time I do it.

I'm playing another round tomorrow morning, just so I know what I'm dealing with.  If it's above 131, I plan on hurling my body at the couch at break-neck speed (which might happen if I miss the couch, come to think of it), and lamenting.  And by "lamenting," I don't mean I will lay there and feel sorry for myself--this is something Husband came up with.  It's somewhere between meditation and a game that an acting class for 8 year-olds would probably use.  Here's how to play:

1.) Unless you live with someone like Husband, who will not question your weirdness (even though he probably should), check and make sure you're alone.  Don't forget to check under the beds.  I don't know why someone would be hiding under there, but seriously, if a murdering rapist broke into my apartment and heard me playing Lament, I'd be horrified, and probably apologize to him as he was murdering/raping me.  It would be that embarrassing.

2.) Throw your body forcefully on a soft piece of furniture.  This is not the time to half-ass it.  Really put some effort into it.

3.) Ready?  This is your big moment.  Lift your head from wherever it landed, and make a ridiculously over-exaggerated Shirley Temple pout.  If you have trouble with this, scrunch your eyebrows as low as you can (no using your hands, cheaters), and clothespin your lips together.  Got it?  Good.

4.) Now, take the clothespin off your lips and take a deep breathe.  As you exhale, in your whiniest, most melodramatic voice, say, "LAMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENNNNNNT!"  Be sure to maintain your bitchface.

5.) Repeat Step 4 as long as needed.  Just so you know, your first few "Laments" should be considered a warm-up.  After you have a couple under your belt, your bitchface should be effortless, and your "Laments" should be building in intensity.  Husband introduced me to this, and I've never had a bad day that it couldn't fix.

6.)***Optional***  This step is not for the weak.  If you do happen to live with someone like Husband, or if you have amazing friends (I mean the kind you would trust with your secrets, hair, and money), you can have a group lament.  In the right company, a group lament will do wonders for your psyche, and solve all your problems.  But be careful--one shy, self-conscious eye-roller has the potential to kill it for everyone.  And nothing good comes from a ruined lamentation.  Do you think the Holocaust would have happened if Hitler had a solid group of friends to lament with after World War 1?  Exactly.

If you happen to be around my apartment tomorrow, and hear a strange noise that resembles Fran Drescher singing "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot," you'll know how the weigh-in went.