Monday, December 12, 2011

Big Ball of MAD.

Ya'll. I am brewing up a cauldron's worth of cranky over here. My darling husband had to cut his errands short in order to come get the Precious One before I lost it.

Let me break it down into layers...

Today: The cat peed on Lily Ruth's bed while we were out. I've cleansed, sprayed, aired, etc., and the smell will not leave! My Angel removed her own poopy diaper (a known no-no), and got herself out of taking a nap due to the bath necessitated by the poop on her legs and arms. She also dug into my makeup and confiscated my concealer stick - the brand new one. It took 20 minutes for her to apologize for that. Her daddy had to come home from running errands to grab her before I lost control. When he left, he grabbed the diaper bag - thus leaving with my wallet and my keys. So much for a solitary run to the grocery store. When he gets back, we'll have time for a hurried dinner before he leaves town for two nights. Again. Stupid job.

This month: My figure (while never sleek) is expanding at a rapid and unacceptable pace. None of my pants fit, and my tops are all lumpy and awkward. Since my actual weight has not changed, I must assume that I am rapidly converting muscle to fat. Charming. My hair is a spit, dry disaster. My hairdresser (who I've considered to be a friend for years) is blowing me off. My skin is a mess - pimples, dry flaky spots, oily slicks (ALL ON ONE FACE) - and the double chin I've developed just frames the mess so nicely.

Since we leave for our first ever family vacation in two days, perhaps I should just go completely retro in style. I think that this level of physical awkwardness deserves the full treatment - caftans, head scarves, giant sunglasses. Perhaps if I swathe myself in layers of Pucci prints and tortoise shell frames, my misery will fade into the background and 'campy' can be my new 'thing' - ooh! I could channel Nathan Lane's character from The Birdcage.


In general: Oh, and I have NO idea what to get my husband for Christmas. As part of our Celebrate Our Lives initiative, he is JAZZED about the present that he has chosen for me. I, on the other hand, am stumped. This turns something that should have been a labor of love into a chore of desperation.

Talk about a case of the Poor Me's! Cheese it! Can you see why I've been crafting like crazy? It's something to keep the funk at bay. In fact, you'll have to excuse me - I need to google a tulle skirt tutorial then drag out all of my fabric.

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