Fit Pitchin’ Friday: I’m a WereMom

Let us all take a moment to welcome Fit Pitchin’ Friday back into the lineup. Much like my abs, FPF has been neglected and ignored to the point atrophy. Unlike my abs I feel compelled to give it the attention it is in such desperate need of lest it begin to sag to my knees in a heap of flesh toned flapage -yes that’s a word, I made it up myself-

Recently I’ve come to the horrifying realization that I am parent to a teen age Werewolf, thus a WereMom. Sadly it’s a rather less Shakespearean tale in that my my son does not resemble a certain Native American teen werewolf of literary and cinematic fame.

My burly off-spring is more of a cross between the Michael J. Fox and Benicio Del Toro wolf packs. How do I know that my darling man in the making is indeed afflicted with a disorder of the the lupine variety?

It all began with his turning his back on dental hygiene. This child -whom I spent countless hours instructing- has somehow forgotten how to brush his teeth. Day. Night. Early Afternoon. Mid-morning. At any point in the day the kid sports fangs that the folks at Dentabone would salivate like ole Dr. P’s dogs to get their hands on. Not long after adopting this new “look” other signs began to show.

Nearly every morning I’m forced to rouse him from at slumber somewhere in the vicinity of  noon. To which he responds with what can only be described as a growl. Conversely, any given evening, he can be found carousing about until the wee hours of the night. This behavior may be effected by the lunar cycle. I haven’t checked yet and frankly I’m afraid to.

He seems to be out growing his clothing at super natural speed as well. Often I find his clothing in shreds. The claim is it’s “the style” but I’m not buying that the 80’s ripped jean look is EVER coming back -that’s just too traumatic for me- what’s next an arm full of rubber bracelets, come on.. REALLY?!

Once a cool example of my bad-half-ass DYI skills, his room now more closely resembles a cave high up in the mountains of some Eastern European country. It smells like a kennel too.

The final straw that pushed me over the edge into insanity realization… he sniffs around any female his age and tends to make what sounds like howling noises. I’m told this is typical teen male presenting but I’m not buying THAT either.

So what is a WereMom to do? I bought him a chew toy and told him if he brought home any puppies I’d have him neutered. I’m debating about asking him if he has a telepathic connection to any packs residing on the coast of Washington state (just in case I run away from home some day).

See parenting a teen werewolf -once you give into it- really isn’t all that hard.

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