Tall Girl Problems

I could write an entire blog called “Tall Girl Problems.”  I bet there’s already a blog out there about it, but I’m too lazy to check.

That goes under the blog “Lazy Girl Problems.”

bathroom3 Tall Girl Problems

That’s Morgan in one of the thousands of bathrooms at the Opryland Hotel in Nashville.  She’s not paying attention to me because a) she’s known me for 3 years & expects weird behavior or b) she’s also a blogger & understands weird behavior.

Huge bathroom, right?  Plenty o’ stalls but I still had beef with them.  See, Morgan is a short gal by tall girl standards & her head hits the top of the stall door.  This was my view:

bathroom1 Tall Girl Problems

Nope, I’m not standing on my toes.

It created an awkward moment or five after I used the facilities & had to scoot my shapewear back up over my rear.  & by “scoot,” I mean wiggled back & forth in a chicken dance until I was out of breath & my underwear was shoved up my ass, but my shapewear was on & up under my boobs so I just called it a success.  A panting, sweaty success.

That everyone got to witness as the top of my head bobbed around over the door & I looked like a drunk fish on the line.

Trout, anyone?

HeirtoBlair500x150 v41 Tall Girl Problems

Another round of me wearing clothes!

For those of you who thought I looked cute last week, thank you!

Unfortunately, this was  yesterday’s reality:

wiww feb15 Another round of me wearing clothes!

RAWR, baby.  Wrinkled tshirt, leggings, last night’s bun.  Even the room is messy.  I was one hot momma billing a ton of hours & yes, please check & respect the Thin Mints on the nightstand.  I need to put them away but ohsogood.

I did go out with Doug & my parents on Monday night to celebrate Valentine’s Day.  Yes, we double-dated with my parents & it was a grand ol’ time.

wiww3 feb15 Another round of me wearing clothes!

::  dress: shabby apple  ::  coat: anthropologie ::  tights: vera wang for kohl’s  ::  shoes: nine west  ::

oh, what’s that?  You wanted to see me looking sexy again?  Okay.

wiww2 feb15 Another round of me wearing clothes!

 You’re welcome.  Rock on, Wednesday.

Don’t worry, it’s not all sad-sad-unemployed-sad-sad-dramz around here.

So today, I hit up the dentist because HELLO, insurance runs out in one week & I’m making all the popular pit stops.  Dentist, eye doctor, birth control, & of course, the psychiatrist who desperately needs me to bitch on her couch for an hour.  I dropped Harrison off with his auntie for two hours while I got my teeth scrubbed (he had been asking for her & considering she was a daily fixture in his life for two years, he needs some Auntie time).  Then we hit up the craft store because a) it’s time to get my Pinterest on & b) The Momma’s birthday is coming up & I’m on a budget.

Let me just say that I can stand in a board room or jet across the country, but I turn into a complete wuss once I step through Michaels.  All those women with glue stick burns on their fingers, willing to cut a bitch over the last vial of Martha Stewart glitter?  THEY TERRIFY ME.  Same thing with fabric stores.  Also, the strangest thing happens that once I hit the first aisle, I completely forget what I was there for.  Confidence takes a crash & burn so I stand there in the aisles, completely overwhelmed by the choices in felt.

In short:
Before Michaels:  BIG SPARKLY INSPIRATIONAL UNICORNS OF HAPPINESS!

After Michaels:  I WILL NEVER ACHIEVE ANYTHING GOOD IN MY LIFE.

yeah.

I’m standing in line with Harry in the push cart & a matronly lady turns to me.

“Is your mother’s name Karen?” she asks.

“No,” I say politely.

“You look like my friend Karen, so I figured you must be her daughter,” she explains.  I shrug.  Raleigh is a pretty decent-sized city.

“With two children, I figured you had to be her,” she persists.

Is this lady drunk?  I only have one child in the seat & I’m pretty sure the firstborn’s that were traded for Christmas Cricuts weren’t eligible for the 40% off coupon.  Like I said, I’m on a budget so if it’s not on sale, it’s not in my cart.

“You know,” she says.  ”With your boy & the one on the way.”

oh.

shit.

Awkward silence abounds.

Does this lady not know Rules of Feminism #253: Don’t ask a woman if she’s pregnant unless the fetus is 75% down the birth canal with a hand waving?

I am having a serious love affair with Pinterest & houses.

Since the house is on the market, I cannot stop dreaming about our next home.

(You know how I like to jump the gun.)

I spend my free time perusing the houses available in the neighborhoods we love, calculating mortgages & downpayments, wishing that our house would sell RIGHT THIS INSTANT BECAUSE DOUG! COME LOOK AT THIS HOUSE!  & then I hop on Pinterest & decorate the entire thing in my head.

Of course, my head doesn’t have a budget in mind which is a very lovely thing when I’m pinning Anthropologie & Amy Butler fabrics.

I’m in this awful stage right now of having so many ideas & dreams for decorating, but not wanting to “waste” them on the house we are selling.  Especially since the goal is to keep our current house as sparkling clean & sparse as possible. 

Sell, house.  Sell!

 
 
 
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Source: bhg.com via Beth Anne on Pinterest

 

Source: bhg.com via Beth Anne on Pinterest

 
 
 
 
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Smelly Feet vs Baby Kicks for Weirdest Post-Pregnancy Side Effect

Three words make the the Weirdest Thing Ever About Life After Birthing A Baby:  phantom baby kicks.

Yeah, they’re still happening two years later.

So I’m sitting there at my desk, happily tapping away at expenses & BAM! there’s a flutter in my uterus area.  It’s enough to make me take pause & freak the eff out that OH MY GOD, I’M GOING TO BE ON “I DIDN’T KNOW I WAS PREGNANT.” 

But then I remember that I’m already doing that female thing (send nachos & wine!) & we are staunch supporters of the Trojan man & there is simply NO WAY there is a bambino kicking away in my uterus.

But still.

Totally trippy.

Stealing is for losers. Copyright 2008-2012 Beth Anne Ballance