My goodness, I haven’t played this game since I was in grade school – back when dinosaurs roamed the earth. But Faemom tagged me and (rule follower that I am) I just have to play. Plus, it seemed like a fun game to play for a Saturday post. So c’mon! Let’s play tag!
First, I have to name seven things you don’t already know about me.
First things first….
7. If I was a boy my dad wanted to name me Robert John so that he could call me Bo-Jo. I wish I were kidding. But I’m not.
6. I developed a food aversion to spinach when I was pregnant. It was one of my absolute favorite vegetables and 6 years later I STILL can’t eat it. I can barely type the word without getting all queasy.
5. I was terrible at tag as a kid. I was so afraid of “failing” (you know, never being able to actually catch someone) that I’d pretend I was just not interested, that the blades of grass and clovers were calling me to observe them. I like this game, however, because you don’t even know I’m sneaking up on you and tagging you. Plus, I get to sit down while doing it.
4. I bought my first car for $400. The passenger side had little half-dollar size holes on the floor so if you lifted up the floor mats you could see the asphalt racing by. I named it The Flintstone Mobile.
3. I didn’t have boobs until I got pregnant. I was a mildly flat chested teen/adult. I’m not kidding. My sister and I used to joke about what to fill our bras with each morning when we got dressed. Then I got pregnant. And nursed. Yep, God gave me boobs and then He let me keep ’em. Just a little present for suffering through 15 years of infertility, I like to think. Of course, he let me keep an extra 15 pounds of baby weight, too.
2. My blood pressure always rises whenever I hear a baby or child crying in public. I look around worried. I follow the sound to make sure someone is taking care of the situation. I absolutely cannot rest until the crying ends. It drives my husband crazy.
1. I spent the summer in Germany when I was 15. My friend and I went to a store to buy the German “Playgirl” magazine equivalent. When we went to pay for it the clerk asked us if we were sure this was the magazine we wanted to buy. Of course it was, my friend said, and we rolled our eyes at her prudishness. When we got back home we started pouring through the magazine, agog at all the naked men. But something was a little off. We couldn’t quite figure it out. Then we turned the page and one picture said it all. This wasn’t a “Playgirl” equivalent. It was a …..well, I don’t even know what the equivalent is…..it was more like a “Playguy.” You know, for homosexuals. Oops.
Ok. Now it’s your turn to play. Either tag someone else or peek in on the tagged! Have fun! And happy Saturday!