I took up weights this past winter.  I bore easily in the gym and was looking for something to distract me.  I also wanted to be ready for that day that George announced it was “Digging in the Garden Time”. 

This is a time of year that strikes terror into all of our hearts. 

At first George would make this announcement two or three weeks ahead of time but gradually he caught on to the fact that, armed with knowledge, Wally and the Snapper would suddenly have full schedules on the big day. So he has stopped giving us advance warning and instead springs it on us the night before. Hence my work out with the weight machines – I needed to be ready at a moment’s notice to lift those fifty pound bags of manure and drag them across the backyard.

I took Wally and the Snapper with me to the gym one day over spring break, to get their input on my routine.  They recommended some dangerous looking machines that resembled something out of the Spanish Inquisition, so I passed.  George was more direct.  He said, “You need to get on the bench press”.  I asked what that was for.  He said, “It’ll work out your chest muscles – fill you out a little more”.  I was amazed.  I said, “You mean I can get bigger breasts just by using that machine?” and he said, “Not breasts, chest” and I said, “Whatever.  It’s close enough”.   

I have been searching for bigger breasts my whole life! I am so flat that when the Miracle Bra was launched a friend of mine offered to buy some for me. 

I am so flat that once, when I was being measured for a bridesmaids gown, the bridal shop owner told me I was a size 6 and I said, “Never in my life have I been a size 6.  I’m a size 8” and she shook her head and said, “Look at the chart: your waist – size 6.  Your hips – size 6.  Your chest….well”, she dragged her finger around the page, looking for a number and gave up.  She said, “You’re not even on the chart”. 

More recently I was shopping for bras and ended up having to work out of the junior department.  I now have a pink bra with rhinestone straps as a result. So this bench press was great news for me. 

I went immediately to the gym and did, oh, 100 reps or so on the machine.  The next morning I was so sore that I couldn’t move my arms.  I said to George, “I ache all over and I haven’t grown an inch”.  He said, “It will take awhile, like grass seed”. 

He is a man obsessed. 

A few days later it was “Dig in the Garden Time” and Wally and the Snapper managed to flee before George came home from the Garden Center.  So it was just the two of us out there.  It was a pretty hot day for early spring and at one point I got woozy from all the exertion.  George said to me, “Sit down.  It’ll pass”. 

I sat down next to the Herb Garden, which he never touches because he hates herbs.  Several times I have caught him “weeding” the herb garden, which is a George-ism for pulling up all the thyme.  We had a battle royale and agreed to a division of assets in the yard: he handles the lawn and I handle the herb garden.  Everything else we split. 

So I was taking a break and looking at my herbs, pleased with how many had survived the winter.  All except the lavender, which is my favorite.  George came by and I said, “Look, the lavender bushes died -  I guess we’ll have to dig them up” and he looked horrified.  He said, “Lavender makes men’s breasts grow!” 

What? 

I followed him out back.  I said, “I’ve spent months on these damn weight machines and I could have been rolling in lavender instead? Why didn’t you tell me??” and he said it only impacted men that way. 

There is no justice. 

I went inside and Googled Lavender.  I found lots of links to medical and cosmetic uses of the plant, including soothing headaches, curing acne, warding off the plague and as toning the skin, as well references to its many uses in perfume.  Some people even cook with it. I kept digging and finally found the article about lavender and its impact on pre-pubescent boys.  The study was inconclusive but it did leave open the idea that lavender might also stimulate estrogen in women.  

 I was convinced. 

I went outside, found the biggest shovel I could and began hacking away at the backyard.  George found me an hour later.  He was appalled.  He said, “What the hell are you doing to the lawn?!” and I said, “I’m turning it into a field of lavender”.  George sighed.  He said, “Jane, you’re fine as you are” and I said, “If you tell me more than a mouthful is a waste I’ll hit you with this shovel.  Just once, I would love to put on a low-cut blouse and actually spill out of it like a character in one of those Henry the 8th movies.  Wouldn’t that be a nice change George?”

But he didn’t answer.   

He was already digging away.