Hey, life? Are you kidding me?

Revelation: I am not Superwoman, but actually I'm an alien!

I know it's hard to believe, right? I'm actually NOT Superwoman? Dang, now what do I do with these capes and tights? And my nemesis proved it to me - WALMART. You don't have to read far into my blog to understand the contemptuous relationship this particular store and I have. Here is how my downfall took place:

Background Information

I had a total hysterectomy with the removal of an ovarian cyst the size of a man's fist, which honestly is kind of vague to me - fists range in sizes - Mr. Magoo would have a small fist while Mr. T would - never mind I don't even want to think about that inside of me. Plus, I was sick the month before that, because about a kajillion doctors couldn't find anything wrong with me. Most said it must be a pulled muscle - That's got to be the new go-to phrase that means 'I'm clueless'. I tried to convince them since it felt like aliens were having rough sex in my abdomen while occasionally taking breaks to feast on parts inside of me. That description might have backfired; I'm pretty sure that led to one doctor accusing me of being a drug seeker. I didn't really help the cause by replying, "Hell, yes! Yes, I'm seeking drugs. Did you not hear me? I have a dominatrix alien getting her kicks in my ABDOMEN!" I didn't get to see that doctor anymore; he kind of slinked away. But they didn't send me to the psych ward, so on some level I try to be thankful.

The event of my demise
Well, it has been 2 1/2 weeks since the surgery. People have been great - bringing me dinner, checking on me, etc. But no matter how much someone loves you, you just can't ask any one to face Walmart for you. That would be the end of any relationship. I mean I'd do it for some people, but then I would consider myself like almost up to Guardian Angel status. But seriously, you can't say, "Could you pick me up some printer ink. Oh and see if the good toilet paper is on sale. And you know since you're there, just go down each aisle and if you think I might need, or more probably just want, it - throw it the basket. Thanks you're the best."

As I'm leaving, my son says, "Mom, please don't do too much." Which in retrospect, I realize is a stupid phrase. Think about it - how do you know what too much is until you've done it? People who eat a whole supreme pizza by themselves don't know it was too much, until they are emptying their onions and olives into the toilet. You don't realize chopping wood (I've never actually done this - I'm just speculating) is too much until you are on the ground screaming from pain in your back and numbness in your arms.

I do know what too much of Wal-Mart is now. It is when you are 1/2 way done in the middle of the store and nausea, faintness, pain, and a strong desire to sit down overcomes you. So I search for a place to sit down while I begin to sweat. Not beads of sweat, but more like bodily rivers of sweat.

I see the shoe department - they have to have those little aisle benches to try on shoes and measure your feet, right? Nope, when you are at Wal-Mart you better know the size of your feet. So, I'm not a proud woman, I'm a desperate one. Surely, in the furniture department something is put together I can sit on. I know it's probably against a sacred Wal-Mart rule, but honestly I don't care about rules at this point. But alas, the only furniture put together was a 3 shelf cabinet. Shazam! Customer Service! They have to have seats. They do! But it looks like everyone in Midwest City decided Walmart was the best place to escape the rain.

Don't worry; I finally found a place. And that's when it hits me - I am not Super Woman. Walmart combined with surgery has defeated me. I try to look for the loop hole for a way I can convince myself that I am Super Woman. But let's face it, Super Woman would never be so desperate for a reprieve to sit on a toilet just to rest not to do her business. I sat until I quit sweating and thinking that maybe a ride in an ambulance would be comfortable. Eventually, I regained some composure. Washing my hands, I glanced in the mirror. I was right - no Super Woman. I thought "I'm just a normal human." But! Then I had a flashback from earlier times in my life, and I realized I'm actually an alien. No, no - not the kind from another country. A green, shiny costume alien - how could I have forgotten this?

But that story is for another day.

Defeated by Walmart yet again,

Audra!