Since its that time of the month, I get a free pass to drinking all the red wine I want, right? Well Lemme describe how ridiculous I am, right now.
I was an emotional wreck last night. Since I got my taxes back, I treated myself to some online purchases, and have been waiting for them for a few weeks. The housing project that I live in, as you all know is fairly new, and therefore has recurring problems with delivery drivers finding the place.
So last night, I was in the shower, drinking red wine(having put the toddler to bed, of course). I was feeling pretty sh**y, having dealt with a bad situation at work, one where I am forbidden to talk about, due to confidentiality, but basically it just so happens I get to see the evidence of my baby daddy’s “responsible” parenting to his girlfriend’s kids, and he hasn’t seen his own daughter in 40-something days. And I deal with it on a weekly basis, but yesterday it was just too much.
Anyway, I get out of the shower and discover that there are two packages sitting on my welcome mat. Immediately I am elated, until I discover that one of the packages has been partially ripped open, and the training pants that I bought for LB have been rained/snowed on all evening.
Sob. Shake it off. Cry. Shake it off. Shake it off.
The next package is a pair of kick-ass designer jeans I bought off Overstock.com for a whopping $35.00 (marked down from $95.00). Now let me explain something, before you read what happens next. The jeans shopping options in my town are as follows:
- JC Penny
- Corral West
I no longer can buy jeans from the teen stores at the mall, because A) they fall apart and B) my C-Section Scar does not look good creeping up and over cooch-riders.
So I immediately pull the amazing jeans out of the bag and pull them on. I look in the mirror.
I lose it. I break down. I cry and cry and cry.
Its hilarious, because who buys jeans without trying them on first (well, besides models.) I NEVER do this. But I am sick of either choosing Mom Jeans or Britney Jeans. There is no middle ground. And of course I am ragging, so everything is overblown and dramatic and totally out of control.
So what do I do? I throw the jeans in a corner. I put in Jurassic Park and keep drinking.
Best decision ever.
Why? Cause T-Rex, he feels my pain.