Do Not Enter*

*I don't think that you do, but I wouldn't let your kids read this post, I talk about hoo-ha's and junk, and you know, its just not appropriate for children to hear about all that just yet. They will on the school bus, so let's just leave it at that, its better that way then from Kendall, E, and Jake's mom.

So you know those storage closets I was talking about in my last post? MmmmHmmm. The ones where no one but me goes in? Tucked way back in there is my bike. My bike that I think I rode maybe twice before I got knocked up and then the only thing that you see my involved in on paths is pushing a stroller or pulling a wagon.

 It used to be a simple reason as to why I didn't ride it and release it from its habitat surrounded by hanging baskets, a sump pump, and tools. Have you tried riding a bike with a child? A child who's bike has training wheels and is about 3 times smaller than your bike? Yeah, you look like you are learning to ride a bike yourself, because the simple push of a pedal will send you 50 yards ahead and it will take the child 10 minutes to catch up, crying and whining for you to wait up with entire time. So you sway back and forth willing the bike to stay upright as you travel at a speed so slow that falling is seriously inevitable. So I just didn't do it. I can walk faster then they can ride.

Now today my love got the bright idea that he wanted to ride bikes with the kids. Kendall is now just riding on two wheels, on a bigger bike, and so her speed is a little bit greater. I hear the, 'seriously Melissa,' and I know he is somewhere in the house in a closet, just by the tone. Listen, when he can figure out where to keep things, then he can use the tone. So I travel to the basement. He makes it to the bike which has flat tires. He tells me, which I can almost predict, 'I doubt these will even hold air because the bike hasn't been ridden in 12 years.'  Classic exaggeration. It is perpetual and key to our personalities. It's almost like if we exaggerate, our point is that much stronger. In no way is this bike 12 years old. I got it right before I got pregnant with Kendall. Because if I wasn't going to have a baby, I might as well train for something, and I decided I needed a bike to assist with that training for something. So of course the tires held air.

So he rode with the children, came home and said he felt like he was riding on a metal pole. Comfy.

I decide later that I need things from the store and that I am going to ride my bike. It's the green thing to do, it's different, a little fun, exercising. I immediately begin singing, 'I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride my bike...BICYCLE, BICYCLE....!!!' If riding a bike was just as wonderful as he makes it sound.

Now I have heard this said before. After childbirth, riding a bike is a little bit more uncomfortable then before. And I never once thought bike riding was all that comfortable to begin with, unless of course I was 12 and riding on a banana seat. But, I get it, the hips have broadened after birthing through the hoo-ha 3 times, leaving a pretty wide gap between the legs, and it ain't like there is any cushioning there, and I already am completely doubly disadvantaged because I have a pancake for a rear end. So it's not like I could lean back a little and take some pressure off the crotch for a few minutes. Really, I have ridden a bike previous to childbirth, it really never was that comfortable of an experience for me, but eventually you numb and you just pedal right along, your crotch just gets used to it.

So I did this, and I expect this. I sit myself down on that bike and begin to pedal. And it hurts. And I think, if I turn around my love is seriously going to make fun of me. And really what is my excuse? Am I going to tell the children Mommy turned around because her hoo-ha hurt? And you do that little lift and resit, a little shift hoping that somewhere if there is padding it settles and you are actually a little comfortable. Nada.

But I keep going. Here is the thought process...I wonder how much I can get on craigslist for this thing. How much are gel seat covers, and would it really work? With the money I make off of it online I could probably get myself a beach cruiser and those seats are for huge butts and they have mammoth padding. I wonder if I took off this sweatshirt and tied it around the seat itself if that would cushion it. I don't think I should stop and give the hoo-ha some rest, it might swell, and then I would never be able to get back on and I would like so stupid walking my bike to the grocery store.

I  ironically catch up to a man on a biking expedition, or so it looks. He's got the packs on both sides of the rear wheel, the basket pack on the back, a back pack. So I focus in on him....Where in the world is he going with all that stuff? Does he know what town he is in? Where is he headed at 3 pm on a Sunday? Maybe he is practicing for some summer trip. I would die having to ride my bike so far. Look he's got those glasses on that have that rear view mirror that sticks out off of them, I would seriously crash into something while attempting to look behind me in that dumb mirror, just turn your head for half a second. (I contemplate waving, sticking out my tongue, just to see if it really works) I wonder if the spandex shorts he is wearing have padding in the butt and crotch. You must walk funny with those in your pants. Why do bikers who are not in races insist upon wearing tight clothes. It's awkward for me to be near a man in spandex. Why do they not feel awkward about that? I wonder if his crotch hurts? I wonder if his junk provides him some sort of padding or if it really just kills. When I get home I am asking Andy if he has to adjust his junk before sitting upon a bike seat. I wonder if this guy shaves his legs. Some men that bike ride do. I mean does the leg hair really hold you back? Really affect your speed or get in the way? (I squint, but can't tell)

With all that distraction, I finally arrive, disembark my chariot of pain, and head into the store.

Immediate swellage. My hoo-ha is throbbing. All I want to do is curl up in a fetal position in the frozen foods department with a pack of peas between my legs. I trudge on, get my supplies, and head back. I just want to speed bike the entire ride home so that I can get the heck off of that thing.

The entire ride home all I am doing is cursing the creators of this bike seat...Who really thought that this was ok to subject riders to? Why did the looks of this seat take priority over its comfort level? Who tried this bike out and said it was wonderful? Are they idiots with super padded crotches. And the thinking is well people will purchase a padded cover for their seats and I say that that is super unfair after paying a couple hundred bucks for a bike, why have to spend more money when they could have just made the seat padded in the first place. Now I feel like I am sitting on a bunch of razor blades. I shut my eyes for a second and imagine myself sitting upon my big turquoise beach cruiser with its comfortable seating that allows you to almost bob along. I have a big white flowered basket upon the front, and my hoo-ha is intact.

I now decide that my hoo-ha is out of commission for at least a month. I am getting white underwear and applying iron ons that say, 'Do Not Enter.' And it hurts to pee. It hurts to sit. Bikes are so stupid.

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