I am not a vain person.
Okay, I am a vain person but I'm not freaky about it. If I have to run to the store without makeup on, I'm okay with that. Life happens and sometimes I don't look my best. Whatever.
BUT, this morning I headed to the mall with Squish to walk because, let's face it people, I'm bordering on GIGANTIC. On days when I know I'm going to walk, I don't put on makeup, I don't do my hair, I just pull on my sweats and get to it. And I see tons of people, walking away, all makeuped and pretty and I think, why? You have to go home and shower and start all over again and isn't that really just a waste of time?
So there I was, waddling away, frustrated that every lap was harder than the previous and counting the days to delivery. After letting Squish play for a bit on the toys, I picked up a few things at Old Navy and started to make my way out of the mall.
Then I saw him. That person you know and that for some reason, you really don't want to see looking like this. All sweaty and blotchy and just plain nasty? I tried to pull my sweatshirt tighter around me, willing the zipper to magically connect and cover up the girth that is my belly when dang it! He sees me too!
"Hey Karen! How are you? Out early this morning, huh?"
"Uh, hi there, BISHOP."
The sad thing, well, one of the many sad, sad things, is that I think he thinks I was just at the mall doing some shopping. Like my pride is so low that what I was wearing seemed like an appropriate thing to wear to the mall. Like it's perfectly normal not to care about hygiene or clean hair or clothes that fit properly. Wanted. To. Die.
To cheer myself up, I came home, showered, threw on my cute new shirt from Old Navy and headed to Subway. Me and the Subway lady have become fast friends, probably because she seems me at least once a week. A veggie sub is what I am currently craving and she makes mine to perfection. She also tells me how cute I look and that it's so nice none of the weight has gone to my face and that I just have this perfect little baby bump. I heart her. She is my 2 minute psychologist and she makes me feel better about everything.
So now I wish I had a reason to head to Mutual tonight so I could show him that I really do have a little bit of pride left. That I am conscious of how I look. That I do think it's wrong to smell in public. But whatever.