Consider this a plug for our local thrift store, the Goodwill that is just around the corner from our house.
Having just finished my EPPP (Exam for the Professional Practice of Psychology, or, Question Your Career Choice for Four Hours In a Small Room) yesterday, I decided to spend today doing things that I just, you know, felt like doing. Well that and ironing all the shirts Joel has been hanging on the closet door for the past three weeks and that I have been ignoring "because I have to study". Please don't feel devalued, fair readers, but once the ironing was finished, shopping for a few new (to me) things fell juuuuust above "finally blogging again" on my to-do list.
And seriously? There are some women in the Akron/Ephrata area who have seriously cleaned out their closets lately, and who know how to shop. I scored eight tops, one hippie skirt, and one pair of Caribbean Joe comfy pants for me, and two skirts, one dress, and a top that goes with both skirts for Mikayla. All for $45. I don't mean to brag, but I brought home brands like Ann Taylor, Banana Republic, The Limited, and Old Navy. My new pants went straight into the birth center bag; nothing like a little something new to make you feel pretty after giving birth, right?
Also, you might get a kick out of my criteria for today's purchases. Comfy and modest, good for wearing to church or work when I need to nurse/pump. I operationalized these criteria by asking myself the following questions: 1) Can I get this on (mostly) over my pregnant belly? 2) Is there any way Mikayla could stuff something down inside the front of this when I'm not looking?
If the answers to those questions weren't Yes and No, respectively, then on the hanger it stayed. And yes, Mikayla was there to dutifully help me decide.
I can only imagine what was running through the other shoppers' minds as they watched me waddling through the non-maternity section, and heading into the fitting rooms with all my items. Most of it was probably along the lines of "Oh honey...I don't think so."
This leads me to the second part of the post, which is a rant against current maternity styles.
The (longer, stretchy) tops I found in the regular women's section fit better than anything I tried on from the maternity rack. Seriously, I'm not sure who they think they are designing clothing for. What is the point of material that stretches (barely) around your girth if it stops 3/4 of the way down? Pregnant women are supposed to have large bellies, right? The problem is compounded by the fact that I work in an upstairs office, so my clients get a potential view of my underbelly as I waddle down the stairs to fetch them every hour. Gotta cover that business. You'd think the maternity clothing designers would be all over that. But they are not. Just thought you should know.
In conclusion, I brought home my purchases and proceeded to weed all the no-longer-fitting maternity clothing from my closet, replacing them with new, non-maternity but, in some cases, more accommodating items (makes perfect sense in month 9 of pregnancy, right?). I remember doing this when I was pregnant with Mikayla...toward the very end, bagging up all my maternity stuff to return or put away, feeling so D-U-N with this long growth process and eager to reverse it. Not to mention so. ready. to meet this little one who spends all his time tirelessly kneading my insides!
That about sums up my day. It's terribly mundane, I know, but there's nobody else around to tell, and nobody twisted your arm to read this far, did they? And if a trip to the Goodwill was blog-worthy, how uneventful has my life been lately? Study study study, with short breaks for food and bathroom. Sigh. I'm even cranky when I have a chance to edit. Must be time for bed!
God is good...next post: a recap of His recent faithfulness (to debunk the whole "uneventful" notion I just set forth; set aside some time, it might get lengthy!). SDG!
Showing posts with label Random Complaints. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Random Complaints. Show all posts
Solo Mish
Warning: for the female readers; involves painful detail with regard to bra shopping.
The title of this post is in honor of Becca, who forced me to watch an episode of The Hills...which turned into two, then I think three episodes. It's kind of like a train wreck on top of a plane crash...so awful that you can't look away. Anyway, that's where I first heard reference to a "solo mish", apparently short for "solo mission". Today, I went on a solo mish to Target.
I learned so much today. I learned that you should never, ever go clothes shopping alone while pregnant, and that you should never, ever, for the love of all that is good and holy, go shopping alone for apparel that requires you to self-scrutinize while wearing anything less than full head-to-toe coverage. Oh, the depression. I knew things had been changing and shifting around but....I needed somebody there to cheer me up. I was trying sizes at which I had previously turned up my nose, and I still looked slightly lumpy.
And? I learned that women's clothing is sized by monkeys throwing poo at a number chart. I knew this about pants...men get a nice predictable "32 x 34", while we get sizes that fit differently depending on the store, the style, and the current zodiac sign. But bras, which seem so methodical and sensible. You'd think that a cup size would be a cup size, but nooooo....you finally find the magic number (36? 38?) that allows you to breathe adequately, and suddenly you could also smuggle a twelve-pack of Angel Soft to cushion the ladies. I finally settled on one and bought it, if only to burn it tonight at dusk.
I think I learned some other things as well but I'm too exhausted to remember. The main gist of it all was, "Oh, good heavens, no! My eyes! Cover it up, quick!" Thankfully I did the bra shopping first and was able to spend some time afterward looking at myself fully-clothed in some cute new tops. Joel, darling, I slightly overspent but I blame it on the trauma of bra shopping. I'm sure you understand....er, actually, take my word for it?
Quick, somebody, tell me how wonderful it is that I have a little baby growing inside me and the miracle of life and blah blah blah. I need a reality check!
This is why I don't watch The Hills. Or shop. I need to go eat something.
The title of this post is in honor of Becca, who forced me to watch an episode of The Hills...which turned into two, then I think three episodes. It's kind of like a train wreck on top of a plane crash...so awful that you can't look away. Anyway, that's where I first heard reference to a "solo mish", apparently short for "solo mission". Today, I went on a solo mish to Target.
I learned so much today. I learned that you should never, ever go clothes shopping alone while pregnant, and that you should never, ever, for the love of all that is good and holy, go shopping alone for apparel that requires you to self-scrutinize while wearing anything less than full head-to-toe coverage. Oh, the depression. I knew things had been changing and shifting around but....I needed somebody there to cheer me up. I was trying sizes at which I had previously turned up my nose, and I still looked slightly lumpy.
And? I learned that women's clothing is sized by monkeys throwing poo at a number chart. I knew this about pants...men get a nice predictable "32 x 34", while we get sizes that fit differently depending on the store, the style, and the current zodiac sign. But bras, which seem so methodical and sensible. You'd think that a cup size would be a cup size, but nooooo....you finally find the magic number (36? 38?) that allows you to breathe adequately, and suddenly you could also smuggle a twelve-pack of Angel Soft to cushion the ladies. I finally settled on one and bought it, if only to burn it tonight at dusk.
I think I learned some other things as well but I'm too exhausted to remember. The main gist of it all was, "Oh, good heavens, no! My eyes! Cover it up, quick!" Thankfully I did the bra shopping first and was able to spend some time afterward looking at myself fully-clothed in some cute new tops. Joel, darling, I slightly overspent but I blame it on the trauma of bra shopping. I'm sure you understand....er, actually, take my word for it?
Quick, somebody, tell me how wonderful it is that I have a little baby growing inside me and the miracle of life and blah blah blah. I need a reality check!
This is why I don't watch The Hills. Or shop. I need to go eat something.
In Like a Lion, Out Like a....Lion
Perhaps that's an exaggeration. Instead of a lion, let's compare my first trimester to...shall we say, a large, ornery housecat? For the most part, when I've felt sick it's just been a steady queasiness rather than huge waves of acute nausea. And while I've been tired, I have been pretty good about going to bed relatively early and taking naps when necessary. It's been several weeks since I needed a power nap at work, and I haven't felt queasy in about the same amount of time. I thought things were settling down and ready to ease silently into the second trimester.
Well.
I don't know what Peewee's doing in there, but the last week has really ramped things up. I have not only been eating everything in the house (literally. I think we have half a carton of blueberries and some matchstick carrots in the fridge), but there has been a resurgence in nausea and fatigue. This is week 12, people, we should be moving forward, not backward.
On Sunday I questioned whether I'd make it to church. I blamed the heat that morning, but since then I've continued to feel much more queasy throughout each day as well. Today is the worst, with dueling hunger and nausea all morning. I had two eggs, scrambled, with cheese, and some potatoes from the hospital caf (I can eat eggs, just can't stand to smell them! It helps that they are so buttery and unhealthy here; masks the eggy-ness). I have been nibbling crackers and sipping my water - should have grabbed a ginger ale from the caf while I was there.
And I just took a 20-minute power nap here in my office, which stretched into a 25-minute nap when I hit the snooze button. I really think I could have slept all day. Do you think my supervisors would approve? Thankfully my 10:00 appointment canceled, giving me a little extra time to make up for the nap. This afternoon, my last scheduled appointment/meeting ends at 3:00. Can I justify heading out early? I rationalize this by telling myself that I will get the same amount of work done whether I go home to sleep or remain a zombie here.
Well those are the details of my day. I'm looking forward to ladies' night tonight at Janell's house, and made mini muffins for the occasion. Miraculously, I didn't lose any ingredients and nothing burned in the oven. If I can just squeak in a nap after work, I might be good to go. Otherwise, Laurie, be prepared to carry me home.
In two days, I will officially be 12 weeks pregnant. One more week, and I'll be starting into the second trimester. That is so hard to believe!! I keep telling myself that I'll start packing as soon as I get to that point and have that fabled energy resurgence...it's like a unicorn mermaid mirage right now. Please, let it really exist!
Well.
I don't know what Peewee's doing in there, but the last week has really ramped things up. I have not only been eating everything in the house (literally. I think we have half a carton of blueberries and some matchstick carrots in the fridge), but there has been a resurgence in nausea and fatigue. This is week 12, people, we should be moving forward, not backward.
On Sunday I questioned whether I'd make it to church. I blamed the heat that morning, but since then I've continued to feel much more queasy throughout each day as well. Today is the worst, with dueling hunger and nausea all morning. I had two eggs, scrambled, with cheese, and some potatoes from the hospital caf (I can eat eggs, just can't stand to smell them! It helps that they are so buttery and unhealthy here; masks the eggy-ness). I have been nibbling crackers and sipping my water - should have grabbed a ginger ale from the caf while I was there.
And I just took a 20-minute power nap here in my office, which stretched into a 25-minute nap when I hit the snooze button. I really think I could have slept all day. Do you think my supervisors would approve? Thankfully my 10:00 appointment canceled, giving me a little extra time to make up for the nap. This afternoon, my last scheduled appointment/meeting ends at 3:00. Can I justify heading out early? I rationalize this by telling myself that I will get the same amount of work done whether I go home to sleep or remain a zombie here.
Well those are the details of my day. I'm looking forward to ladies' night tonight at Janell's house, and made mini muffins for the occasion. Miraculously, I didn't lose any ingredients and nothing burned in the oven. If I can just squeak in a nap after work, I might be good to go. Otherwise, Laurie, be prepared to carry me home.
In two days, I will officially be 12 weeks pregnant. One more week, and I'll be starting into the second trimester. That is so hard to believe!! I keep telling myself that I'll start packing as soon as I get to that point and have that fabled energy resurgence...it's like a unicorn mermaid mirage right now. Please, let it really exist!
I Might Just Doze Off....Again
Good morning world. I just arrived at work about fifteen minutes ago and already I need a nap. I can squeeze in 20-30 minutes on my couch before I head to supervision at 9. Just thought you should know.
Anybody know a good strategy for combating the fatigue of pregnancy, other than completely succumbing to it? I actually got a good night's sleep last night. Punctuated by highly vivid, highly strange dreams.
On the bright side, I was offered an interview tomorrow morning for a postdoctoral position down toward Lancaster. My brilliant plan is to come into work around lunchtime, no matter what time the interview is, and spend the non-interview portion of the morning sleeping. The thought of a little extra rest just might be enough to get me through today!
Thank you, that is all for now.
Anybody know a good strategy for combating the fatigue of pregnancy, other than completely succumbing to it? I actually got a good night's sleep last night. Punctuated by highly vivid, highly strange dreams.
On the bright side, I was offered an interview tomorrow morning for a postdoctoral position down toward Lancaster. My brilliant plan is to come into work around lunchtime, no matter what time the interview is, and spend the non-interview portion of the morning sleeping. The thought of a little extra rest just might be enough to get me through today!
Thank you, that is all for now.
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