A Woman Scorned Sets an Olympic World Record for Grass Cutting

August 17, 2008 by Administrator
Filed under Life's Little Lessons

It was a difficult task for my husband – letting go of his ego. After all, cutting the grass is something that makes him feel – well- manly. He forced a smile as I convinced him that I used to cut it all the time as a teenager. But I sensed doubt in his eyes, or was that just squinting from the glaring sun? Either way, I know my rights. Just because I’m a “girl” doesn’t mean I can’t hang with the boys. This was a battle he was just going to have to lose.

So there he stood, with our crying, drooling, teething tot Miss Sweet Pea on his hip, trying his best to force optimism. “Go away – go on inside!” I said. “Take the baby in and get in the shower – I’m a pro at this.” I flicked my wrists and revved up the lawnmower engine, but not before I heard him say, “I’m not taking a shower just in case you can’t finish.” Oh, son of a @!#%$, you’ve done it now!

“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.” Game on.

Ten years of marriage and he thinks I can’t finish cutting the grass? Is he kidding? I’ve given birth to three babies in 5 years – one of them without the help of anesthetic (ok, the only reason I didn’t have much for baby #2 was because she came so quickly – but still, it counts as almost natural childbirth!). Heck, back in the day I was the “grass cutting teen queen.” My parents had a huge backyard that I conquered every week come rain or shine. Of course their were perks, like wearing my bikini top so the neighborhood boys could drool at what they couldn’t have – but I digress. My point is that I’ve always been willing to tackle “manly” tasks – and I’ve tackled them well. There’s a saying that I’ve always applied to my life – and everyone else’s – “Girls can do anything boys can do – but better!” And cutting the grass is no exception.

So I did what comes naturally to a woman scorned, I kicked the lawnmower (just to intimidate him), mumbled something I won’t repeat under my breath, and set out to break the “grass cutting” world record. Not only would I finish the lawn, I would beat his 1 hour 45 minute record set two weeks ago. The glorious gold medal would be mine.

But my optimism quickly vanished in the blistering sun as sweat and old age (by the way, 36 is NOT the new 20 when it comes to cutting grass) quickly tried to do me in. I had one thought as I pushed and sweated and pushed, pivoted, and sweated some more. Damn it’s hot! Damn I’m tired! Damn I’m getting old! As I rounded the corner toward the side of our yard for a brief moment I considered quitting. He’s right. I’m tired. I’ll let him finish. But suddenly, like a jolt of lightening (or was it the gasoline fumes that were making me high?) I felt the surge of energy to not only finish the race, but to win it. I was nearing the end – ahead of world record pace.

Into the home stretch I roared as I neared the finish line. One more bag of grass to dump. One more strip of lawn to mow. I felt the push as a couple of my neighbors drove by and waved, looks of awe and astonishment on their faces. What? A woman in this neighborhood actually cuts her own grass? Ya, eat your heart out you yuppies!

I dusted my filthy grass-stained shorts off, tied up the trash bags of freshly cut grass, and headed into the house. My victory lap would be sweet. Sure enough, there was my hubby, down on his hands and knees playing with Miss Sweet Pea. You’re done? “Ya, I’m done,” I said with a smirk on my face. Record time baby, record time! He really didn’t have to say much else. I made my point and he accepted it.

I’m now the proud gold medal and world record holder for the “1/3 acre grass-cutting event” in our family. My time? Just under 1 hour 15 minutes.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.