His Two Words Made Me Run

After a weekend in Philadelphia, celebrating my father-in-law's 60th, it felt good to come home. So good in fact, that I pulled out my double stroller, plopped the kids in and headed for the boardwalk.

"You're going for a walk," my husband exclaimed. "Aren't you exhausted?"

"Do you see that sun out there? I'm not sitting in the house when it's that nice."

And off I went, rehashing the weekend in my head, the laughs, the stories, the look of surprise on my f.i.l's face when he walked through the door, as my husband crawled into our bed to rehash via a nap.

Like any LB knows, a burst of sunshine gets the Boardwalk packed, and boy was it ever. As I strolled up the ramp, breathing in the ocean air, realize now how much I missed that smell, I had to dodge a quick right. Runners pounded the boards, bikers peddled them, and walkers weren't leaving much room between. But I found my grove and began trekking amongst them.

One ramp later I ran into my old boss from C&R. Big embraces lead to big talk about the old days, what we and everyone else were up to, and our up coming plans. Forty minutes into the non-stop chatter, my kids restless and his cell phone beeping with messages from unanswered calls, we said our good-bye's.

I walked away, and just as I was about to put my ipod on, he called back out to me. I quickly turned, hand shielding my eyes from the sun.

"Nice ass," he said.

I smiled. In honestly it was more than a smile, it was an ear to ear glow that has yet to leave.

"You made my week," I yelled back, wondering if other people were now checking out my ass too.

Walking away, I felt good. In my twenties, when my ass was nice, tight and high, I wouldn't have thought twice about someone talking about it. I would have taken that statement for granted. Now, as a mother of two kids, who's recently joined a kickboxing class, begun to eat healthy, and fit a stroller strides class in at least once a week, 'Nice Ass' means more than 'Nice Ass.' It's a recognition to the fact that I still exist. Though I've forgotten about me, other people haven't. I'm still relevant in this world, other than as a mom. And some people might even find me hot!

Hot.

The thought alone got me going. Nice Ass, my mind repeated, and I began to strut. Nice Ass, and I swayed my hips more. Nice Ass, and I walked faster. Nice Ass, and I picked up my feet and I ran. Nice Ass, and I sprinted from one building, stop, breath, strut, to the next building, run, stop, strut.

Two words. Two words took me from a woman who, four weeks ago, made a commitment to herself to eat right and join an exercise class, to a woman who lifted her feet high off the boardwalk and ran, something I haven't done in two years.

And by the end of the boardwalk, my accomplishment felt even better than the two words still repeating in my head.

Though I will repeat them again and again.

Nice Ass!