My First Hormonal Breakdown
The morning started out a little rocky on Saturday. As I was flipping through my Better Homes cookbook to make some breakfast, a wave of heat/chills/nausea came over me. I had to lay down and choke down an apple to get through it.
Later that day, when I was feeling better, my hubby and I went to get lunch. The waitress asked “How far are you,” and I’m thinking she’s wondering if we had made our way through the menu. She said my yoga schedule pamphlet and kids menu were the tipoff {and in her head was probably saying, “and your mondo boobs and teenager acne were a help too”}. This was my first time being asked in public, and it threw me off a little.
So about 7 minutes later, I reached over to put something into my purse and knocked my glass of water over… into my purse. There were some 13 ice cubes IN MY PURSE, along with about 16 oz. of water. If you know me, I am *not* razzed easily by stuff like this. I’ll call myself and idiot, giggle and move on. But. Not. This. Day. I moved into full-on tears. Like, ugly face, downturned lips, my-dog-just-died tears, in the middle of this restaurant. Having been in earshot of EVERYBODY, two servers came to my rescue with dish towels and did their best to clean off my purse, because they must have thought I would have EXPLODED if I didn’t get my $30 Kohls purse dry.
If I could have spoken between gutteral sobs, I would have said, “I don’t give a FRICK about the purse! In fact, hand me my phone and TAKE IT, throw it away, so I won’t have to deal with blowdrying that stupid thing. NOW, throw my grilled cheese in a doggy-bag and GET ME THE HELL OUT OF HERE!”
If my poor waitress didn’t know I was pregnant before, she knows now.
{image via Breeders Digest}