And they hate me, too. I’m looking for some new nice-casual shoes to wear for work. It’s a pretty casual environment, so nothing fancy. I wear jeans a lot.
I also want to be able to wear them not at work, which means I’m going for little to no heel. Rob and I are the same height, and I hate to wear shoes that boost me up a foot taller than him. I like to be at his level, not towering over him.
There are plenty of flat shoes out there now, but I either have freakishly long toes (though no one’s ever pointed that out to me and they look normal to me), or the part that “covers” your toes just isn’t big enough. I’m going with the second option.
Every time I try on a cute pair of those style shoes, I’m left showing toe cleavage, which is totally unflattering. And borderline nasty. It just looks weird!
Dear shoe companies: Make something I like, please. I love to shop, but I hate shopping for ages for something with no success. Enough with so much focus on hooker heels or toe cleavage.
1. It’s raining. When I was little, I used to whine about getting wet in the rain. My dad’s response was always the same: You’re not made of sugar. You won’t melt. And my response back was always the same: Yes, I am. And yes, I will.
Good news. I’ve never once noticed any melty texture to my body when I’ve been rained on. I guess my dad was right. Now bring on that rain!
2. I had a McFatty day yesterday. I didn’t eat poorly or anything, but it was just one of those uncomfortable days that convinces you you had to have gained 5 pounds overnight. Everything I wore felt tight yesterday, and I just felt, well, ick.
WW (and sane people everywhere) says to avoid weighing yourself on a daily basis. I haven’t listened to that for ages and am a regular daily weigher. This week, I decided to avoid the scale for the week. I actually was doing well. I hadn’t weighed myself since Sunday morning.
But after yesterday’s icky feeling, I decided I needed to know the ugly truth and stepped on the scale to see those 5 pounds I just knew were there.
GUESS WHAT!
What, guessing games don’t work in writing? Darn.
Some of me has melted away! I weighed less last night than I did first thing Sunday morning! And everyone knows you weigh a good 2 pounds less in the morning than in the evening, so last night’s numbers meant I’ve definitely LOST weight so far this week.
I broke out Chandler’s happy dance after seeing the numbers. In fact, I’m doing it in my head right now.
Oh, I am a fortunate girl. I got to clean up vomit twice in two days!
I was awoken at 6:30 this morning (30 whole minutes before my alarm goes off, however many minutes till I am aware it’s going off) to the sound of Lucky gagging at the foot of the bed.
I didn’t realize what the sound was till after the damage was done. There was a lovely fresh pile of vomit on the comforter. Even though I didn’t get there in time to rescue the bedding, I’m happy to report I got there in time to move things around before it soaked through to the mattress.
And this, folks, is why I’m doing laundry at 7 a.m.
Hey, I thought I was free of this wake-me-up-with-vomiting thing until I had kids. What gives, dog?
Dear friends,
The thought of you reading my posts here gives me butterflies and makes me a tad sick to my stomach. I’ve never been so candid without being there in person to gauge the reaction of my audience.
So, um, any sort of feedback would be greatly appreciated. Leave a comment. E-mail me. Text message me. Whatever. I promise I won’t judge your reaction, just as I trust you’re reading my words here with an equally open mind. If you humor me a bit at first (this is only day two of sharing my blog with people!) I promise I won’t be so needy of your approval in the future.
Love,
Jenny
I hate vomit. I don’t care whose it is. I even hate it when it’s mine. But as much as I hate the act of vomiting, I much more hate the cleanup.
My animals are little vomit machines. I walked into my bedroom this evening to find not one, but TWO vomit treasures. Thank you, Lucky.
Today’s cause? A toothpick. The dummy actually ate a toothpick. And since she has a bad habit of swallowing her food (and wood products, apparently) whole, there it was in the vomit, a whole toothpick.
Thank God her little body is smarter than she is and knew it wasn’t food, thus forcing it out before it did any damage. I really am thankful for that.
But I’m not happy I have to clean up vomit.
