Getting out of bed is hard. Mornings, for me, are like bras. I don't like them. At all. They're not supportive (they haven't made one small enough). They're uncomfortable and altogether unpleasant. But it's a little taboo to throw caution and brassiere to the wind... so like my over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder, I begrudgingly "embrace" the morning.
Embrace is strong. It's more of a forced relationship I have with the AM. After all, it's only natural to avoid pain. And donchta know, everything hurts in the morning. I'm an 80 year old who needs to rest her wrinkled prunes a little longer than those annoying gals who wake up at 4:30 just to work out... yeah, I want to punch them in the tinkle taco. (Ain't nobody got time for that!)
So here's some things I say to myself to get my frumpy fanny out of bed each morning:
1. That donut ain't gonna eat itself.
2. If you sleep till noon, it's really going to mess up your nap time.
3. If your bladder explodes all over the bed, it'd be messy and probably painful. Grahm would be pee-ved.
4. You need to cover up those saddle bags under your eyes, Two Face.
5. You wore your hair in a bun yesterday. People are gonna know you didn't shower. AGAIN.
6. The Zombie Apocalypse is happening now. Your cubbies aren't zombie-proof.
And if all else fails, I roll over and get a whiff of Grahmsterdoodle's top-of-the-morning-to-ya breath. And then I'm wide awake.
Linking up with Shanna!