Friday, June 04, 2010


"Get Fat for Free!" proclaimed my local news paper, which was a reminder that today, today is NATIONAL DOUGHNUT DAY! Woot, woot! And, not only is it a HUGE holiday, it is a huge holiday where you can get a free doughnut at the Dunkin Donuts. This was such big news that not only was it on the front page of my local paper, it was also the lead story on my local news. The lead story which LB saw and absorbed. The lead story which persuaded LB to tell me I should go get some of "mommy's coffee." Being such a warm and loving mom, I took LB to DD and got some coffee. And that was all. Yes, I bought coffee and forgot to get the free doughnut. And the kicker is, not only did I flake out and forget the free doughnut, LB flaked out and forgot the doughnut too!

Wednesday, June 02, 2010


Yesterday I went to the Shop Rite that just opened in our neighborhood. Because the store is brand new, the customer service is amazing. I was greeted by a young woman who gave me an aisle directory and gave LB and TD each their very own pink balloon (FYI this was HUGE as I was able to shop for ten whole minutes without either kid melting down). I was then escorted over to an area by produce where I got my Shop Rite card (it is a store coupon card type thing which I never saw until moving to New England). Anyway, as I am getting the card, LB sees strawberries and mentions she'd like some for when her friends come over. And the woman helping with the cards hears this and hands me a coupon for ninety-nine cent strawberries, which she tore from the weekly circular for me. Now, knowing I have the attention span of a newborn and the memory of a gnat, I clutch the coupon in my hand with my wallet so that I can't possibly pay without seeing, and using, the coupon. I shop for ten minutes or so and pick up half a dozen items, including the strawberries, and then I pay. After unloading my kids and my groceries into the car, I reach over to the seat next to me to put my wallet back in my purse. AND NOTICE THE COUPON CLUTCHED IN MY HAND NEXT TO MY WALLET.

Tuesday, June 01, 2010


If you asked me, I would tell you it has been awhile since I went to a fancy function. If I really thought about it, I'd realize that the last time I did anything fancy, was when I was pregnant. With my first kid. In 2007. Three years ago. Unfortunately, I hadn't really thought about it until it was too late...

When I mentioned to a friend, in passing, that I was going to go a wedding this past weekend, she seemed kind of excited and asked me what kind of dress I bought. THIS SHOULD HAVE RUNG SOME ALARM BELLS IN MY HEAD. Instead, I responded with something along the lines of, "Buy a dress? HAHAHAHA. No, I'm just gonna wear something from my closet." She then said, "Oh. Uh. Oh." AGAIN, WHERE WERE THE ALARM BELLS? A day or two later, another friend asked if I was going to get my nails done and, instead of heeding the silent HELLO!?! YOU NEED TO FANCY YOURSELF UP, I fluffed it off. In the end three different friends asked me about my wardrobe and grooming for the wedding and yet I still found my self climbing into the shower on Saturday afternoon blissfully unaware of the fashion horror show I was going to become.

Saturday, as my shower progressed I was feeling good. In fact, it was only when I was shaving my legs that I thought about my wardrobe and that thought was inane and something like, "Man, I wish I had planned better so I could have borrowed my friend's handknit shawl. That'd be great for a wedding." I had no idea that mere minutes later I would arrive in my closet wearing a towel and a fine sheen of panic as outfit after outfit was deemed TOTALLY HORRIBLY UNACCEPTABLE. Now you might think I am kidding. Being a little facetious. Maybe exaggerating. I remind you, however, that the last time I dressed up I WAS PREGNANT. In fact, the last two times I dressed up I WAS PREGNANT. And before that? My body had not created and ejected TWO HUMAN BEINGS.

I first thought I would go with my LBD (little black dress). The LBD that I wore to my last two functions. Yes, I was pregnant, but the dress was not a maternity dress. It was a fat girl dress from Nordstroms so it should have been fine. WRONG. It was a fat girl dress that took my could-possibly-be-a-baby-or-a-burrito-gut and turned it into a glowing round baby-filled orb. This dress magically gave me a great pregnant belly. And guess what, IT STILL DOES. Now, as hard as it is to believe, I didn't want to show up at the wedding looking nine months pregnant.

So I decided to dig further into the recesses of my closet. Which revealed many casual skirts, three fancy skirts that were either too small or too big, one fancy skirt which fit but was IRIDESCENTLY SEQUINED, and one slightly big but doable skirt that was SHIMMERY METALLIC. In other words, NO SKIRTS. Also, where the fuck did I use to go that I thought a sequined or metallic ass was the way to go? In case you're curious, I am keeping those two skirts should I find myself in those kind of places again.

When the skirt thing tanked, I decided to take a different tack and look at tops. The results where just as dismal. Though without the bling. I could pour myself into some Saran Wrap which would not-so-lovingly show off every roll and budge, or I could wear a circus tent.

In the end I went with tight-in-the-gut, loose-in-the-thigh, a-smidge-too-short, black pants that belong to my old black suit and an asymmetrical, YES, ASYMMETRICAL, top that was black with white ovals on it. As if the "artsy" ovals were not unfortunate enough, the asymmetry left one side dangling below my hip and the other side hiked up at my waist, above my pants line.

In an attempt to counter-balance my hapless outfit, I decided to blow out my normally curly hair. Great idea, right? Wrong. All of a sudden it turned into this limp, long, stringy mess with many MANY short post-pregnancy hair-fall-out-new-regrowth-strands sticking up. Since it flopped into my eyes, I decided a clip was the way to go. A clip, holding back a poof. A poof like Sarah Palin's. Only Sarah Palin has a hell of a lot more hair than I do and the hair that she has doesn't dangle limply. I tried to compensate for my thin limp hair by making my poof bigger. All I can say is that this was a mistake.

So, in summary, I went to the wedding for one of the guy's who works for my husband, whom I had never met, and sat with a bunch of the other guys that work for my husband, that I had never met, wearing ill fitting clothes and donning a coif that even 1980's Jersey girls would have shunned.

Please learn from my shame. Buy a new outfit for a fancy event. No excuses.