After Stinkerbell's final teeball game tonight, we had dinner with my parents. It was an unremarkable fast-food, chicken finger place. Stinkerbell had her Club Libby Lu backpack stuffed with pj's and a change of clothes for tomorrow, as she was going to spend the night with Nanny and Pa. (God love them.)
The Mighty Hunter and his dad went to a friend's camper at the lake for a night of fishing. (yeah, right.) "Fishing" is code for telling jokes, laughing, farting and drinking. They do this once a year or so, and most times, never get their line wet. Unless they pee on it while being nature-boys.
Tonight, it's me and my baby.
Lucky and I left dinner and with the intent of going to W-M and getting a dvd for Sunday (his dedication service at The Mighty Hunter's brother's church. Yes, his brother is a pastor. Scary, huh?) On a whim - yes, whim - I stopped at the Goody's store next to my W-M. Still fluffy with baby fat, I am unable to wear most of my dresses or skirts. I browsed the racks and came to the following conclusions:
- I have no clue how to put together an outfit with the clothes on the racks now. No. Clue.
- The dresses I see look like something from a Donna Summer video (did she make any videos then?)
- Is there nothing out there that functions for a nursing mom with her wide bra straps and dumpy figure but still makes us look and feel sexy and not sexy in the that'll-cost-you-$50 way?
- My answer to #3 is no.
So, I did what any post partum gal would do. I called Beverly and cried and talked about my big thighs and wide hips and that the one dress I tried on actually fit and was a bigger size than I've ever worn. And I only vaguely looked like a pro in it, but I definitely looked like I might to audition for Flashdance.
And you know what Beverly did?
She grabbed 5 or 6 dresses from her closet and brought them over to my rescue and laughed with me for a good 30 minutes and made me feel better.
Yes, she did.
And that's why she's one of my best friends.
That and the fact that she calls The Mighty Hunter a "butt munch" at work.
You gotta love a gal that can insult your husband, who is her boss, and get away with it.
Oh, and right now? I should be packing for our trip to Dauphin Island. Obviously I'd rather blog.
I still might cry some more over this whole clothes debacle.