I’ve gotten my butt kicked this pregnancy:
- the other end..
- falling asleep in the middle of watching my toddler (please don’t call SS)
- hair loss
- the flu
- constant nausea
- crying for no reason
But I am in my second trimester now, Bitches. I’m feelin’ good. And what I ate today can prove it:
- 1 bag Cheetohs
- 1 bag Hot Tamales
- 1 plate Nachos
- 1 terrible-for-you blueberry muffin
- quinoa (I know, this one kind of takes away from my point..but I’m from Boulder)
- another plate nachos
And I haven’t even made dinner yet.
I’m back. I’ve been here for years..
Luker has these pants that he loves with all his might. They are corduroy, pleated and tapered and “the most comfortable pants he owns.” My God. I have worked hard over the past ten years to have them disappear.
But every winter, they sneak their way back into the mix, despite my best attempts.
I remember dating a guy briefly in college who wore similar gems and I was always so embarrassed when I was out with him. That might have been the reason our relationship failed, honestly. Thankfully, I feel stronger about Luke; his pants can’t fend me off. For the most part..
But man, what I would give to burn those mo’ fo’s.
Though there is one great thing about these pants: they are his lady killers. There is nothing like a pair of pleated, tapered pants to let women know: “I am definitely not trying to get laid.”
So in that sense, bless those damn pants.
Luker was on a little retreat for the past few days and he rocked those suckers every day. The moment I saw him pack them, I knew what kind of a weekend it would be.
Maybe I shouldn’t burn them after all..
I seem to be prone to Jennifer Aniston hair, circa 1990.
I swear to God, every time I switch hair dresser it happens. It’s like they see my face and think to themselves: Eureka! I have just the perfect do for her. And BAM, here I am again.
I liked the 90s. I really did. I just feel like it’s time to move on now.
Ah well, it’s either a mullet from my New York hairdresser or heavy layers around the face, 90s Aniston-style. I suppose I’ll take the latter.
Or I could buzz it again..