April 14, 2015

The Psychological Perils of Lentil Chili

It's good, it's healthy...
and it's deadly in bed.
So for the second time in a few weeks I decided to make my new favorite dinner, lentil chili.  This fabulous, and easy to make, dish includes quinoa, lentils, kidney beans, and veggies with the necessary spices and a bit of grated cheese.  However, it isn't the chili I am writing about today, it is the psychological carnage that occurred later....and lasted all night long.

I am a firm believer of getting 8 hours of sleep and last night was no different. I turned the lights off at 9 and probably slept until 1 am when I suddenly awoke to the sound of a large trumpet-like blast.  It felt as though the entire bed shook and shook me with it.  At first I couldn't figure out what the hell happened. I was like the innocent bystander standing in disbelief on the sidewalk after getting shit on by a passing seagull.

......and then it hit me.....I was MORTIFIED!  I laid there as still as I could holding my breath and waiting to hear something from my husband lying next to me. Did he hear it? Did I wake him up? Is the romance gone? Will he now think of me as the wife who farts in her sleep? OMG....I remained motionless and in complete isometric contraction praying that it was a single event but fearing if I relax, even a little, the horror would repeat itself.

This fear kept me up for what seemed like forever...until I fell back into the lull of slumber.  I was caught up in some fabulous dream when all of a sudden I was shaken back to reality by a blast so powerful that it set my sacro-illiac joint back into place and shocked the dog into fight or flight.  OMG...I was MORTIFIED!  Again, I remained vigilant and aware of any movements from the other side of the bed.  Is he trying not to laugh? Will he remember this in the morning? If I just lay still and keep myself awake, I will be able to control these overwhelming (and  somewhat impressive) nocturnal omissions.  Just stay awake.....just stay awake.....just sta.....
Don't judge me...I'm English.

No word of a lie, my entire night was something out of a psychological torture film.  I would go to sleep and then wake myself up over and over again.  Each time a new wave of horror would rush over me as I imagined having to face my husband over breakfast.  What the hell was in that lentil chili anyway?  This exhausting sequence of events continued for the entire night, until the alarm rang at 5:15am.  No stomach pain or discomfort, no gigantic food baby or belly distention...just sheer power and force.  I swear I have pulled some skeletal (and smooth) muscle because of it.

As I reached for the snooze button, wondering if I will hear all about it from my bed partner, I felt his arm wrap around me as he gave me a squeeze "good morning".  We enjoyed a few minutes of cuddling and I was up for another dog walk.  It was at this time I was reminded that marriage isn't about pretending - it's about living authentically and knowing that your spouse will love you no matter what you look like, behave like, or sound like...or at least I'm hopeful that's what it's about.

Even if those imperfections have the
ability to knock the pictures off the
wall and scare the dog.

....at least I don't pee with the door open (not that there's anything wrong with that).

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