Tuesday - TMI for any Mother
May. 9th, 2006 12:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ninanevermoreToday on my drive into work, I was thinking about a conversation that I had with Jeff a few weeks ago, and how sometimes you don't really want to know the answer to your question.
We were standing in the garage while Jeff worked on some construction project for the house. I was complaining about my metabolism. I have never been a person who can get away with not watching what I eat. Even as a teenager, I had to count calories. It always annoyed me that my three brothers never this problem. Starting around the age of 10. they could eat their weight in food and never gain an ounce. In fact, they were all downright skinny.
"Where does it all go?" I asked, "Why do boys go through that phase where they can eat like that, but not girls? It's not fair."
Jeff gave a slight smile and sighed. "Do you really want to know the answer to that?" he asked.
I told him that I did.
"Are you sure?"
Of course I was sure. This was one of the mysteries of the universe that I have long considered the most perplexing.
My husband put down what he was working on and cleared his throat to get me to look at him. Once he had my eye, he used one of his hands to making a jerking motion in front of his hips. Then he picked up his tools and went back to work. I was stunned.
"You're kidding," I said.
"Nope," he said.
"That much? That often? Enough to burn that many calories?"
"You have no idea."
"Starting at 10? I mean, I figured maybe 12 or 13. My brothers started eating like that when they were 10."
"That sounds about right."
I mulled over this information for a moment.
"I didn't really want to know that," I admitted. I had assumed that the bodies of growing adolescent boys were just metabolic powerhouses by default. It never occurred to me that it had to do with one particular form of aerobic exercise that they were participating in.
"You asked," Jeff said.
He had me there. Suddenly, an alarming thought occurred to me.
"When our son gets older, I'm going to need to knock before I enter his room, aren't I? Knock, and wait for him to tell me it's okay to come in."
My husband told me that everyone involved would be less traumatized if I did.
I groaned. I would have been happier if he had just kept this secret that men have withheld from women since the age of the cavemen. I should never have asked. Sometimes the truth can set you free, but there are occasions when it's just more than you want to have cluttering up your head.
Still, I guess it's good that I do know. When the time comes and I have an adolescent son, I will defiantly knock before I enter any room. I think our family life will be happier if I do. At the very least, it will be easier for us all to maintain eye contact with each other.
We were standing in the garage while Jeff worked on some construction project for the house. I was complaining about my metabolism. I have never been a person who can get away with not watching what I eat. Even as a teenager, I had to count calories. It always annoyed me that my three brothers never this problem. Starting around the age of 10. they could eat their weight in food and never gain an ounce. In fact, they were all downright skinny.
"Where does it all go?" I asked, "Why do boys go through that phase where they can eat like that, but not girls? It's not fair."
Jeff gave a slight smile and sighed. "Do you really want to know the answer to that?" he asked.
I told him that I did.
"Are you sure?"
Of course I was sure. This was one of the mysteries of the universe that I have long considered the most perplexing.
My husband put down what he was working on and cleared his throat to get me to look at him. Once he had my eye, he used one of his hands to making a jerking motion in front of his hips. Then he picked up his tools and went back to work. I was stunned.
"You're kidding," I said.
"Nope," he said.
"That much? That often? Enough to burn that many calories?"
"You have no idea."
"Starting at 10? I mean, I figured maybe 12 or 13. My brothers started eating like that when they were 10."
"That sounds about right."
I mulled over this information for a moment.
"I didn't really want to know that," I admitted. I had assumed that the bodies of growing adolescent boys were just metabolic powerhouses by default. It never occurred to me that it had to do with one particular form of aerobic exercise that they were participating in.
"You asked," Jeff said.
He had me there. Suddenly, an alarming thought occurred to me.
"When our son gets older, I'm going to need to knock before I enter his room, aren't I? Knock, and wait for him to tell me it's okay to come in."
My husband told me that everyone involved would be less traumatized if I did.
I groaned. I would have been happier if he had just kept this secret that men have withheld from women since the age of the cavemen. I should never have asked. Sometimes the truth can set you free, but there are occasions when it's just more than you want to have cluttering up your head.
Still, I guess it's good that I do know. When the time comes and I have an adolescent son, I will defiantly knock before I enter any room. I think our family life will be happier if I do. At the very least, it will be easier for us all to maintain eye contact with each other.
