See the pretty girl in that mirror there?
Yes, this evening, after work, I will be hearing this song from West Side Story in my head. Except it won't be the West Side Story version. It will be the Anger Management version.
I'm going to get my hair trimmed and fresh high-lights. Woo hoo!!!
I've neglected my hair care - among other things about my personal appearance - over the past few weeks, months, year(s).
As I've said before, I'm pretty low maintenance. I prefer my Nike running shoes to most any of my other shoes.
Although I LOVE to shop for shoes and have some great ones. Like these. These were from DH for Christmas last year - I feel like quite butch in them, but they're great with a pair of jeans and in the rain and cold of Alabama winters.
Clothes that are comfy and look like the non-pg me are quickly becoming very difficult to find. DD and I are making a trip to the mall tomorrow so that I can visit the maternity store and increase my wardrobe from the measley 2 pairs of jeans, 1 cargo pants, 1 denim skirt and 4 tops. But aren't these jeans great? Mine are the "gold bling pocket".
I feel stunning.
I'm 4 months. (Look up at the top of the page and double-check me with my ticker. I lose count.) But my tummy and non-baby organs moved up to the bottom of my ribcage long ago. My ribs are already spreading out and my bra band-size is crazy. The poor little 16 y-o who measured me for a bra Wednesday night had probably never seen a pg woman's naked belly in all its glory. She stretched the measuring tape around my chest and said suck in your breath.
"Honey, this is as much as I can suck it in. Wait...." big wheezing sucking noise as I manage to somehow inhale a little more and get the tape pulled in very snugly.
big blast of air gushing out of my mouth as I laugh at her. "There's NO WAY I could stretch the elastic of a 34" anything around these ribs. I'm in a 38 now and it's hooked in the last hooks!"
My belly button is already deformed. It never actually turned into an outie, but had more the appearance of Marge Simpson's overbite. Well, I'm thinking about getting my belly painted with a portrait of Marge for my Halloween costume. That might be entirely too scary, even for Halloween.
The skin on my chin and around my mouth is rough and bumpy. I've used a variety of cleansers and exfoliators and masks, trying to fix it. Only to make my skin so dry it peels and flakes. But there are still the ugly little pimples too. They're holding their territory with the tenacity of those in the Middle East conflict. I'm soooo looking forward to September 30.
DH is clearly afraid of me already. His fear and intimidation level that appeared during pg #1 was funny as crap to me. When I start talking about having to buy clothes, he just smiles and says nothing. I saved all my maternity clothes from pg#1 but I must have forgotten how to wash and dry clothes at the end and shrunk all my pants about 3" in length. A few of my tops are ok, but the sweaters are all "pilled" up. When I leave work in a few weeks, I'll have to try this to make those sweaters presentable. Not that any of them are cashmere. But DH hasn't complained at all about my shopping binge.... Yet. I think he has a pretty high level of enjoyment that I've had to shop for larger bras twice already.
He's not good at keeping this a secret.
DH is on a hunting trip through Sunday. He got his gift for Christmas, birthday, anniversary, Valentine's, Arbor Day, National Beheading Day and every other obscure holiday that MIGHT justify the cost and is getting to use it on this trip. But when gun season opens, he has to put his gift in a box, wrap it up and stick it under the Christmas tree! He has no problem with this, as long as he gets to hunt with it NOW! I wonder if he'll observe International Rabbit Day..... probably NOT!
Now, for those reading this that are supporters of PETA and have stayed with this post this long. Bravo! You're a lot more tolerant than I expected you to be. So, in recognition of your patience with the above paragraph, I'll tell you a little more about DH.
He's the kind of guy who was raised on a cattle farm. Not a big operation. Just enough cows for his parents and him to handle. He helped care for the cattle and pets at their home. Cattle require injections of medications of varying kinds from time to time. It made him physically ill to do this. He's terrified of needles. When a cow was struggling to give birth to her calf, he was right there to reach his long arm in and help deliver the calf. If you don't know what that means, then watch the scene in City Slickers where Billy Crystal's character loses his watch. When a cow's labor is difficult like this, a barn stable C-Section is not an option. And usually the calf and/or the cow are in danger of losing their lives. Many times the calf is breached and can be too large to deliver. It was never pleasant for anyone involved, cows or humans. But DH would be sick for days over losing a cow or a calf.
He is also the kind of guy who saved a puppy from certain death. Sport, aka "the stinkingest dog in the county", was abandoned by some heartless soul on a remote dirt road in an area where DH used to hunt. The cute little black lab mutt hit the Super Mega Lotto for strays when DH found him.
He brought home Tigger, aka "demon cat", home one night. Now, that one he regretted. Tigger was never very tame or sweet. Pretty, yes. Soft, yes. Snuggly, yes but only for a few moments and then without warning, he'd bite the crap out of you and run for his life.
DH is, like all the really good ones in the world, a rawhide creature with the soft, fuzzy underbelly of a kitten. He grumps and growls and sulks like all grown-up boys, but loves tenderly and fiercely. Kisses sweetly and softly. Hugs close and tight. Holds hands when riding next to me. Brushes DD's hair with care and patience. Rubs my belly and back and shoulders and feet. Andhe wept pitifully when he and his dad and brother buried his mom 6 years ago after her battle with leukemia. It was during those last few days, weeks and months of her life that I fell crazy in love with him again.
I've got a good one. I'm keeping him. He's all mine. Mine and DD's and Peanut's.
Good luck finding one as good as DH.
How do all the things in this post relate to each other? It's all about DH...
- DH loves Anger Management.
- The scene with the singing cracks him up.
- He likes for me to look nice - even if he can't tell what the guy did to my hair to make it look so great and cost so much.
- He picked out my Merrell shoes and the boots were gifts from him.
- Boobs. 'nuff said
- He loves to hunt but is a caring man who works hard to care for his family (human and furry).
- We eat most of the meat from his hunting trips and give away the rest to those without funds to buy meat.
- He's out of town. DD is staying at Nanny's tonight. I'll be home alone and having to deal with the highly likely bout of insomnia that generally strikes when I'm home alone at bed-time.
- I miss him.
Oh, almost forgot...
One of my favorite things about DH... He converted from the university of alabama cult so that he could go to Auburn University and yell.....
Waaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrr Eagle!!!! Hey!