The Merits of Pain Relief Cream

I am not an old woman.  At least that's what I tell myself each morning as I slather 30 dollar "proven to fight age" cream on my face, around the eyes, under the chin, between the eyes where the age and kid furrowed brow develops.

I am also not that badly out of shape.  I mean I still have a shape after all, right?  That what I tell myself as I grease my butt to get the jeans on shortly after slathering my face with stuff that promises I will be forever 21.  The jeans do the same, until they rip in the nether-regions, that is.

So imagine my surprise, when, after just a few hours post work-out, I find myself gripping the sides of the bathroom counter along with the tub basin to ease myself into sitting on the "throne."   The ease is not really the word, although I did try to take it gracefully in stride.  Finally I just got to the point that I was gripping, screaming, and plopping down simultaneously--with my kids in the other room wondering if their mother is, in fact, having a stroke

So there I am, stuck, right next to my medicine cabinet, where  I find a tube of "pain relieving cream," which I got for free from couponing.  YEAH ME!!!

Directions: "Rub on area where you feel pain, but do not use on your eyes."  Okay, I can so do that, and what do you know my pants are already down around the ankles.  Just kidding, but easily remedied.

So I proceed to rub it on my thighs, my legs, my knees, and other areas "where I feel pain."

They should warn you not to rub it on your butt.  Nothing like a frozen to the bone butt that's still in pain--when you still may have to pee during the 8 hours of" muscle therapy," which the product says it provides.  It does not, closer to four hours of frozen butt for me.

The next morning, I apparently limp into the gym, and Average Joe is waiting for me at the door. 

"Walking a little gingerly, eh, Maggie-may."  I should have known at this moment that would become my name when inside the confines of the gym.

"Well, yeah, did you know there are muscles under your butt cheeks?"

"Oh, Maggie, yours are anything but cheeks.  'Cheek' denotes something cute, quaint."

Nice. Simply wonderful.  Lemme just push through this sadistic 45 minutes on the elliptical.
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