Tweet This morning, at the only store open on my way to work, the normally crabby Check Out Clerk again, robotically scanned my items: much needed case of Coke (for the caffiene), much needed bag of PopChips (for the crunch), and much need small bag of M&M's (for the PMSing beast getting ready to rage inside my body).
Except this time, instead of heavily sighing before she rattled off the total in sales, she changed things up. Today, as I was rummaging through my purse for my debit card (mostly as an excuse to avoid eye contact) she said to me "You are just the cutest pregnant girl I've ever seen!" And I looked around to see who she was talking to because I. am. not. pregnant.
And she went on, "Just look at that cute little baby belly! You know, I've always hated girls like you - that look so cute pregnant. You an't even tell you're pregnant from the back. Me, well, I ballooned up so big no one could tell if the baby was coming out of my belly or my butt! hahahaha! So, how far along are you?"
"Not far enough." And then I swiped my card and typed in my pin number as she gushed on...
"So, is this your first?"
"Actually, I already have three children."
"Wow! You are going to be busy!!" And she handed my receipt.
So, I did what any normal 38-year old used to eat anything she wanted and never gained weight but who now sports the Bagel Belly of epic proportions mother of three who's youngest was over two and a half years old.... I called my Mom.
"So, I suppose this isn't the right time to tell you your father asked the same thing after you stopped over the other day." Umm... WHAT?!
And then I vented to my co-worker at work who said, "...but when you wear maternity clothes it's kind of misleading..." and I had to awkwardly explain how the shirts aren't actually maternity but rather cute and in-style but only if you imagine someone with an obviously nonexistant gut in them because it's my blubbery belly that's turning them into maternity shirts. Like that maxi dress I wore the other day thinking I was in style? Apparently not.
Although he did offer me a banana at lunch and offered to start walking with me to the top of this ridiculously tall cliff that's outside our office.
This intervention originally left me angry: they're so rude! Then depressed: what's happened to me? I'm hideous! I'll never leave the house again! To realistic: Alright. Let's make a plan.
I've only had 2 cans of Coca Cola today. This is my weakness. I love soda. Love. Love! LOVE! Like, I'm totally gonna ask it to marry me. For real! And I could probably drink a litre of soda in a day if I wasn't thinking about what I'm drinking. But then I thought knowledge is power and I calculated it and I drink three to four cans a day and that's up to 48 ounces which is 6 cups of soda a day. And then I looked at the sugar content and on one can it says 39 grams of sugar in one can - which is like 20 sugar cubes. So, basically today I learned that I eat 80 sugar cubes a day.
I am an addict and I need help.
My first goal is to cut the soda down to 1 can a day. This may get ugly. I could do the whole sugar-free stuff but it's in my best interest to stop the sugar.
My second goal is to get a pair of tennis shoes that don't cause blisters.
My third goal is to actually get in the pool and not sit on the side reading while the rest of the family swims.
My fourth goal is to research local fitness classes. Because one thing I know about me is that I have no self discipline. However, I am competitive. This means that if I'm running on a treadmill in my basement I'll quit the second I start breathing hard. But if I'm in a class with 10 other people I'm all heck, no, I ain't quitting!
And my fifth goal is to go to sleep at a decent time because I stay up way too late reading and then I have no energy to do anything... but man, do I read some good books!
Maybe as time goes on I'll add doing sit-ups. I'm still on the fence about that one.