I am about to both a) regale you with a tale of awkwardness and b) make you very, very awkward and then c) inspire you with a story of my own awkwardness. All in one post. Because I am awesome like that.
If you remember, back in October we purchased our stroller (the glorious Bumbleride Indie) from a lovely boutique in the area. This afternoon, I slipped into the store to speak with the owner on her return policy.
Blair: “Hi, I’m Blair & I bought a Bumbleride from you about 3 months ago.”
Owner: “I remember you! How are you doing? How is the baby?”
Blair: “Errrm…unfortunately, we lost the baby.”
Owner: “Oh, okay.” ::pause:: “oh.” ::realization as my words sink in:: “OH. Oh, sweetie. I’m so sorry.”
Blair: “It’s okay.” (OMG, why do I say that? It’s not okay. Why can’t I just say thanks?)
::awkward pause, shuffling of feet::
Blair: “I was wondering what your return policy is. We love the stroller, but should something crazy happen…you know, like more than one bun in the oven…what should we do? Would you prefer us to return the stroller now, or wait & see?”
::sigh:: Only I could drive a cart without a horse, dragging someone behind me in a chokehold of awkwardness. Thankfully, she said that we would waive the 30-day return policy & she will work with us should Nate fertilize two eggs.
Speaking of egg fertilization…nah, hasn’t happened yet considering my ovaries have yet to spit an egg out. But in the spirit of getting knocked up, Nate & I knocked boots last night & laughed the entire time, mostly because of Nate spent 75% of the time talking like the Ladies Man.
Jokingly, of course. & ever the jokester, he asked if switching sex positions mid-romp might hinder/confuse our baby’s sex considering the Shettles method suggests specific positions for specific sexes & we switched up on Mr. Shettles several times. Oh, Nate. Thou art so silly. But at least he did not instruct me to RECEIVE HIS CHILD like he previously threatened.
lol, have I made you uncomfortable yet?
And now my very, very squidgy tale of awkwardness imposed upon my person without my consent. I suppose it is karma for all the socially horrible experiences I have imposed on others (i.e. the two previous paragraphs). In the locker room at my local YMCA, I am slipping off my black slacks & pulling on an old ADPi tshirt when I hear lockers slamming beside me. I can’t help it — I look. And see my client, STANDING ASS NAKED AS THE DAY IS LONG while she changes into her swimsuit. Oh, sweet Jesus. I have seen my client’s box. & I swear, I almost gauged my eyes out with my iPod, just to distract myself from the horror.
What do I say to her, next time she stops by? Do I address it immediately — “Hi, who does your bikini wax because I need a referral?” or “OMG, are those real?” Do I ignore the fact that God and I both know exactly what she looks like without her Talbots sweater set? AWKWARD.
So yeah. I am Blair, bringing you socially uninspired situations since 1983.
