So when I am pregnant I cry. And cry. And cry. Nothing is too lowly for an outpouring of some serious emotion.
Fantastic performance on American Idol? Tears.
An episode of Antique Roadshow? Sniffle. Wipe. Sniffle. (okay, but I tear up with joy for those people even when I am not pregnant...)
The most humiliating moment by far (so far) happened while I was at the gym last night. Our Gold's Gym has a big movie room equipped with stationary bikes, treadmills and ellipticals. As far as I am concerned it is the exercise worlds' equivalent of the holy of holies. It is always dark, always chilly and sometimes they show movies with Robert Downey, Jr. That's right. Up to two hours of Mr. Downey while I am sweating for a better me? I, mean, if you insist. Yesterday was not a Robert Downey, Jr. day. It wasn't even a guilty-pleasure-I-swear-I-only-watched-because-it-was-all-they-had-on day (Every Jennifer Aniston movie, I am looking at you).
Yesterday was Inception day. It seems to me that I loved this movie in theaters. Yesterday, not so much. I made it to the part where Leo can't see his kids faces in his dreams.
And then I lost it.
Could you imagine? Not seeing your babies faces...not even in your dreams! Because this could all really happen, right? It is really only a matter of time before somebody figures out the science of extraction. IF THEY HAVEN'T ALREADY. And then what? We are all just supposed to go around having dreams where we can't even see our children? The ones we had to leave behind because their mom went crazy, killed herself and framed us for the murder? HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO LIVE LIKE THAT?
It was all a little too much.
I had to hiccup back the sobs as I wobbled into the locker room. I think I will call and ask about the movie selections ahead of time from now on.