I bought donuts today.

You know what I hate? When people lie about liking donuts.

"Do you want a donut?"

Wrinkles nose..."Um, no. I really don't like donuts."

LYING SKANKY PANTS LIAR!!

If you date this girl, you get what you deserve. She will go through your phone. She will cry when you refuse to go to her cat's wedding because it's your Fantasy Football draft weekend. She will call your favorite team "the Blue Guys".

Good luck with that.

And for fucks sake, don't marry her.

 

I love donuts. For the sake of continuity, I love doughnuts too.

Love them.

Don't judge.

 

That being said, it is rare that we have them for breakfast in my home. Especially on Sundays.

Sundays are the one day that we can enjoy a leisurely breakfast as a family and I like to cook.  

So rare that when I suggested that I leave the house to get some, the room fell silent.

Too silent. Like I was going to jump up and yell, "Saddle up! We're riding the trail to Eggs and Fruit Saladtown, you dummies. FACE!"

My daughter said in a quiet voice, "I'd eat a donut. I'd like to eat a jelly donut. Or a glazed. Or both."

My husband walked in the room.

You know when you walk in a room and you can tell that some shit just went down? That was the vibe.

"What's going on?"

"Mom's getting donuts," said our daughter. But now she is talking a little louder than normal.

My husband exhales and sits down. "Ok....Ok." He takes a drink of coffee and exhales. "I mean, there are a lot of choices. What if the Donut Palace isn't open on Sundays? Is it open on Sundays? Did you look? Do you have a back-up plan? If it is open, what will you get? And how does that plan change if you go to the grocery store?"

Apparently, someone thinks that I am a Donut Tease.

It was a lot for them to process.

 

 I was going to return home a freaking hero. 

But first, I had to get dressed. That presented a whole new set of problems.

I mean, what does one wear to the Donut Palace?

I've been there before but for snack donuts. A snack donut is a whole different thing. A morning visit makes a bold statement. It says, "Screw this. They're getting donuts."

I settled on Lulu. Because $100 yoga pants say "Screw you. I'm getting donuts."

 

But I didn't know if I was going to go in or take the drive-thru.

Wait...

I'm going in.

 

I pull my giant Mom car into the parking lot.

I've got my list:

A fritter for me. A glazed and a jelly for the kiddo. A sprinkle for the husband.

Four.

Four donuts.

"May I help you today?"

The ultimate charade...I pretend like I don't know donuts.

"Um, I'd like a plain donut."

"Glaze or cake."

"Um, the plain one right there."

She looks at me like DERRRRR....

"What else then?"

"Um, I'd like one of the filled ones. The raspberry."

"And then?"

"And then, um....a fritter. Banana. And a sprinkle donut."

Exhale...it's done.

"And then?"

Shit.

She has a box.

Now I'm in a full fucking donut panic. I look around.

"And then?"

"Um....a bear claw?"

Look who suddenly knows donuts...

"You have more?"

I type that question mark because it was a question. Yet, it wasn't.

FILL!

THAT!

BOX!!!!!

 

"I'd like a Long John."

I was feeling bold now.

 You want me to fill that box? Hold on to your ass, lady. I don't need you throwing shade.

"You want it filled?"

I lean in, raise my eyebrows and drop this bomb.

"That's right. Vanilla crème. Two of them. One maple frosted. One chocolate."

BOOM!

Game on.

But the whole filling process made me feel uncomfortable.   

She has the upper hand now.

 

"Five more."

Be honest.

 Simple math isn't simple when you are ordering donuts. I don't care who you are. You get whipped up into a donut dither and you don't know a dozen from your own mother. If you say anything otherwise, you're a liar. 

So, I chose another.

And another.

And another.

 

And then, it was over.

I swear to Pete, when I got in the car, my radio was playing "Nobody Does It Better" by Carly Simon.

And I rode that shit all the way home.

And my tummy hurts.

The End.

 

 

 



An Affiliate Owner's wife-My view

I rarely get to walk into a school function with my husband. As a wife, that is difficult. I miss talking with him before games and concerts, his long arm draped across the back of my chair. Sometimes, I feel lonely. Sometimes I read on my phone or re-read the program I was handed when I walked in. Sometimes, I am sitting near friends and I get to chat. Most concerts and programs begin with the children marching in and our daughter's sweet brown eyes scanning the room for mine-a tiny, worried frown on her forehead that becomes smooth when our eyes meet. She knows that I'm there and I've saved a seat for Daddy with my hoodie. She knows that he will be there by the time she performs, even if he must wait in the back of the auditorium till it's an appropriate time to move his 6-foot plus frame to the seat. He would never disrupt the show or block the view of another parent. He would never miss one of her programs. He is just that kind of guy-a great father and husband.
I rarely go to these programs in street clothes. Most likely, I'll have on the clothes I wore to the gym. It's a busy life but one we wouldn't trade for the world. We are happy, healthy and we love one another. We also love what we do. The sacrifices we make are small compared to the payment it yields.
I am not talking about a monetary payment but the one that fills our hearts and purpose. But it does take a lot of time and effort on the part of my husband and his co-owner to run a successful affiliate. They balance their duties beautifully. I am proud of them both.
That is why I am so passionate about Level 1 trainers teaching CrossFit for monetary compensation without affiliation. That is why I get upset when people go to these trainers because "It's a good deal" or "It's a good program". Of course it is. It's CrossFit. They just are being very careful to not call it that on paper or a website.
I have spent years trying to convince Level 1 trainers who repeatedly do this to stop. They simply do not care. They would rather take shortcuts. I can't control that. That is in their character, not mine.
They may have more time to work on their personal goals. They may not have to scrimp on other things to pay for affiliation and insurance. They may get to walk hand-in-hand into events but I get to rest well at night, knowing that I haven't deceived the sport that I love or the athletes who I train.
If you choose to CrossFit, please attend a licensed affiliate. We sign a trainer's agreement. I didn't treat mine like an iTunes download agreement. When I give my word, I mean it.
Not every business, even with the best intentions, can be successful. Good intentions wont bring business to your door. But we all can be honest. Honesty is a choice.
 Thank you for reading this. Good luck in the Open.
www.crossfit.com/cf-seminars/Level1TrainerAgreementPlainEnglish.pdf