1. A similar experience to masturbation, it feels good while you're doing it, but it sucks afterwards when you realize that you just fucked yourself.
(thanks urban dictionary!)
Ugh, I suck at this. Honestly, I don't know why I thought an online journal would be any different than the regular one I have that collects dust and gets written in once a year. No seriously, I wrote once last year even though my intention was to chronicle my pregnancy. I have always been a procrastinator. It's a family joke. I was even born 3 weeks late. Ask my Mom, she had to beat me with in inches of my life to get me to do anything. I sure hope my kid doesn't inherit that trait.
Anyway, the wedding was great (if you don't count the part where our DJ was a no show), and the vacation was nice (if you forget the colds we got and the ball busting heat) and the weather when we got home, well lets not mix words. It was shitty. We went from a lovely 95 degrees to 55 degrees and raining. Ick.
Damn, I had so much saved up that I was going to blog about. F'real, I was busting at the seams. Now that I am here I have stage fright or something and it is all gone.
Oh, but go and read Y (here) cause she stole the words out my blog last week and I commented (which I usu don't do) to tell her how much I empathized. This reminded me (like I could forget) that my Dad bought me a copy of that hit best-selling book "YOU on a diet". Yeah, not exactly the summer reader I would have hoped for but it is a best-seller. I tried not to take it as a cruel hint. I tried to take it in the spirit in which it was intended. You know like 'I love you and I want to see you healthy so you can live a long joyous life doing physical activities with your daughter' and not the 'here, loose some weight fat ass' gut punch that it felt like. However, after viewing our wedding photos and crying profusely at my desk, at work, because there is not one shot that I like enough to see past the fat I promptly started reading said book. So far, it is a surprisingly good book. Am I applying any of it? Hell no. What is wrong with me. I know all the facts. I know I need to be healthy. I know I need to get there, to drop a few pounds, to regain my positive self image, but it's like I'm being defiant to myself. Some inner mega battle ensues between my belly and my brain and...well...guess which one wins.
So yeah, anyway Baby Bug's birthday is quickly approaching and we have no plans and no where to go and I am so OVER planning crap. I'm also not in the least bit excited. Is that normal? Complete fear of one's first child's first birthday? Oh good, I'm not a dependant loser Mom. Cool.