If I saw me out in public today, I would guffaw and probably utter something along the lines of: what a train wreck.
I left the house this morning already irritated at my clothes. Because they have the nerve to not fit around my body. I can take some of the blame for this problem, because I refuse to buy any more maternity clothing than I have already, and what I have already is not much. In addition, I am trying to wear as many nonmaternity tops as possible so that my 7 maternity shirts won't wear out in the next two months. But! Still! Stupid clothes!
Basically, I spent so much time trying on my teeny tiny prematernity shirts that I didn't have time to put on makeup or, apparent to me much later in the day, brush my hair? I noticed a giant loop of hair sticking out of the top of my head that I missed when haphazardly pulling my hair into a pony tail. And I'm not talking morning realization here. I'm talking afternoon, talked to a bunch of people, looked like a hobo for half a day realization. Like walking around with a booger in your nose all day.
My motivation to groom isn't the only thing lost. I take my last final tomorrow and am finding it really really hard to give a shit about it. The professor doesn't give anything less than a C+, and since my GPA is high enough, I'd graduate and life would be fab whether I study or not. It's like someone saying, "I'll give you $500 if you study your butt off, or $498.75 if you do nothing." My pride tells me to study and keep my A, and everything else tells me to do other important things like buy baby clothes from Gap and hang them by size, or count the number of diapers I have on stock and possibly rearrange them for the bazillionth time.
This blog entry is turning into the place where petty complaints go to die. I am fully aware. But it's doing a great job of distracting me from studying! HA!
I've been creating scenarios in my head that involve my belly button and its need for clothing. My belly button is super shallow and about 700 inches wide. He is having an inner struggle: stay in or pop out? Like, maybe he doesn't want to pop out because he thinks he will be cold and knows that I won't buy anything to keep it warm because they don't sell those things at Baby Gap. Or, maybe he is rebelling against cupcake by refusing to create more room for kicking because she kicks the belly button constantly and he is pissed.
(I don't know why my belly button is masculine.)
(I don't know why I imagine my belly button to have internal struggles.)
(I don't know why I blog about it.)
(Really, folks, I just generally don't know anymore.)