Clean and Elegant

Clean and Elegant

Friday, 3 June 2016

Taes Floats Your Boat

Why I am like Jane Goodall:  We both like to eat a lot of trail mix.

Today is International Doughnuts’ Day. Perhaps you can relate to my deep-rooted childhood Doughnut Trauma. When I was on the swim team and an important competition was coming up, whenever we went to Tim Hortons post practice, the doughtnuts, and especially the Boston Cream Doughnuts were forbidden. Legend had it that the doughnuts took three days to three years to digest. Legend transformed into fact, and doughnuts became what I like to call a Danger Food, to be avoided at all costs.
Danger! Doughnuts!

Daniel Vitalis: "The human body is like a doughtnut." Yikes.
Years ago, a man named Daniel Vitalis told me that the human body is like a doughnut. From the mouth to the anus is one big hole. To cope with Daniel’s disturbing assertion, and with deep-rooted childhood Doughnut Trauma, my sister has generously invented a new meditation technique. My sister’s name is Taes and she is quite a successful children’s performer. Part of her success is due to her name. Pronounced “Tess,” the spelling of “Taes” makes no sense. Growing up, it was even worse, because her full name was supposed to be Taesnine, pronounced tess-neen. “Taze-9?” her teachers would call out on the first day of school. The boys in her class liked to call her nine seats. Giving your child a name that no one can pronounce and/or spell is an excellent technique for generating Special Person Syndrome. Children with names that no one can pronounce and/or spell must develop the self-confidence and resilience required to advocate for their name’s accurate representation. Before my sister was born, my mother considered calling her Amy Louise. Luckily she didn’t, otherwise my sister might not have turned into the star she is today.
Here are my sister and I, being Very Special People. More where that came from.
It’s hard to say whether or not my sister would have acquired her second superpower without her name-ensuing Special Person Syndrome. In any case, her second superpower lies is her exceptional meditation techniques. Last week’s brilliant technique was called “Taes floats your boat.” When you experience self-defeating and repetitive thoughts about groin welts, groin sarcoma, doughnuts and Married Men, Taes advises that you visualize the detrimental sources of rumination and picture them boarding a boat. Then take a deep breath as you watch the boat float away.

Sometimes it is hard to put people on boats, since you might actually care about them. But Taes assures me that rather often, it is for the best.
“Is there Wifi on the boat?” I asked, thinking of the Married Man.

“No Wifi,” Taes said. “He can have one pomegranate.” A pomegranate to share with the groin welts and the doughnuts. I hope he watched the video on how to open a pomegranate without a knife. If not, I guess he can dig into the doughnuts. Or the Doughnut Trauma.

Though it takes practice, floating your boat turns out to be soothing. There is nothing to be done. You’re in Montreal and your problems are on a boat. When the people you once clung to fail to text you back, you realize it’s nothing personal. They’re simply too busy, floating away on a boat. Wave bye bye.
Bye bye, Boat People.

Not all doughnuts belong on your boat. At  Mile End's Chez Boris, they have splendid doughnuts. Free-range doughnuts, or something like this. The Darling Baristas with Beautiful Hair assured me that Boris doughnuts do not take three days to three years to digest. What a relief. If you buy your coffee before 10 am, you get two free doughnuts. With my Doughnut Trauma safe at sea, today I ate one free doughnut. I gave the other one to my Stunning Friend who likes to wear her baby on her back. These days, my friend needs extra doughnuts for breastfeeding and carrying her baby on her back. Also, the thrills of purchasing exquisite baby wraps off the internet require a great deal of energy.  Apparently, the process sometimes involves gambling.  

“It’s my bad addiction,” my friend confessed.
"I want a bad addiction,” I replied.

Today I also learned that carrying a baby around in a wrap makes your legs look fantastic. Besides being stunning with fantastic legs, my friend has many other marvellous qualities. She is extremely smart, and hilarious, and she is gifted with plants and decorating her house. When you have friends with children, it is important to give them tons of compliments since a lot of the time, the babies steal all the glory.

On that note, my wonderful sister is almost certainly still reading this and in order to quench her Special Person Syndrome, I should probably mention that she too is stunning, with fantastic legs and many other body parts. Her wisdom and meditation skills are extraordinary and she can jump around and sing about bananas like no one else in the world. There is no other way to end this but to say, “Taes (pronounced "Tess"), I’d float away on a boat with you any day of the week.”

The End. 

More Being Special. What fantastic legs.
Exuberant Bodhisattva on Facebook
Twitter: @mypelvicfloor

How to Let Go, for $2.99

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Rideshare, Sterilzation and Doughnuts

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