The Mock Dock

…but I suppose shorts that say, “Bad Legs” don’t really have the same punch to them.

I wonder what the circumstances were which allowed this photo to eventually wind up on the internet.  I mean, this isn’t the sort of photo you voluntarily upload to show people. This is the photo that a crazy ex boyfriend finds and puts on the internet to make you want to kill yourself.

I have advice for this chick.  Use a hand mirror – NOT a camera.

You’re welcome.

My 2.5 year old was born enormously prematurely, and spent 8 weeks in NICU, growing meat on his bones and figuring out how to do important stuff like breathe and eat and maintain normal body temperature before he could come home.  One of the privileges he gets as an NICU graduate is an invitation to the annual NICU Reunion picnic held each summer.  Today, we went.  And this landbeast is the first thing we saw.  My mom was with me, since Mr. Mock is traveling, and I said, “Mom – hold mini-Mock’s hand a second – I gotta take a picture for the mockdock.”  

This is the extent to which this blog has infiltrated my life.

Anyway, this enormous person was sitting, in the middle of the lawn, watching people sign in, and inexplicably wearing a plastic firehat.  She wasn’t the only attraction at the event – we also saw a grown woman in short shorts with more cellulite than I have ever seen on a person IN MY LIFE cut in line in front of masses of excited and eager children, to ride a pony.  I would have taken photos of the mount and dismount for you, but admittedly was so jarred by what I was seeing that I completely forgot.  I can’t tell you how much pity I had for that pony.  I watched, mesmerized, as one of the volunteers helped this woman dismount the poor creature, and it was literally in stages – like, her legs first, and then all of the cellulite from her legs followed, and then her torso, and then the subgut from her torso, and then her arms, and then the flaps under her arms.  It was that bad.  And what the hell?  The ride was for KIDS.  She was older than I am, for crying out loud. 

Next year, I’ll be sure to be on the lookout for PonyRider McCellulite early, and will capture the horror on film for you all.  Promise.