This evening was very craptastic. At first, I was excited about my expanding belly. Then, as I was packing for Chicago, I was freaking out about having nothing to wear. Five out of seven days a week, I wear my scrubs. I don't need many other clothes.
I started to go through my drawers, and I was disappointed to find that I had nothing to wear. My maternity jeans and my nice black pants with the super loose waist.... and that's it. Shirts are not an issue at all at this point, but, still, one cannot go out of town for 4 days with 2 pairs of pants.
Andrew's suitcase found a similiar fate. None of his white collared shirts had been brought to the dry-cleaners, so he had no shirts to wear for the funeral and wake. I suggested we run out to Walmart, since it was 10pm.
Walmart was rough. They didn't have shirts in Andrew's size, and I could not find the maternity section for the life of me. I scowered the women's clothing, trying ot find pants where the waist had some give. There wasn't anything. I was just about to resign and try to shop in the plus section when Andrew found a small maternity section in the infant department.
By small, I mean, they had 4 maternity shirts and 4 maternity shorts. Chicago in shorts in early April? I decided it's better than being naked, so I bought a pair (on the plus side, they were only $3). Not before nearly crying in Walmart, though. These hormones have been making me cry over everything and nothing this week.
I think Andrew sensed the tears coming because he insisted the shorts were very cute.
Once we got home, I decided to finish folding the laundry and putting the clean sheets on the bed for Phuong while Andrew took Bailey for a walk. Let me tell you, Tamarac Apartments suck at ice removal. I've called on it twice since we've moved in. Andrew went out there, stepped down onto the cement, and fell straight down. His back fell into the stair. He limped his way up, and collapsed on a heap on the bed. I got him some Ibuprofen, and he laid down, not moving for a little while. I didn't know what to do, so I just kept apologizing.
That's when I decided to open his shirt from Walmart. Wouldn't you know, it was short sleeved.
I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I turned to Andrew, who was head down into his pillow, and I broke the news. That poor man. He thought it would be OK if he wore a sweater over it. Sweater number one: huge, gaping hole in the elbow. Sweater number two: huge, gnarly pills all over the front. Sweater number three: wide-necked, which Andrew explained you cannot wear with a sweater.
Shit.
I started to put back on some warm clothes to go back out in the cold, but Andrew insisted there was no reason for us to both go. And so he is out, back at Walmart, trying to locate a tall man's long-sleeve shirt. At first, I tried on my clothes from Walmart. The shorts were cute and comfortable, definitely worth $3, but seeing my portruding belly caused me to feel quite fat. I'm used to having some pudge around the middle. Add in a little baby and an expanding waist line, and I feel like I'm all stomach. Once it's clear that it's a baby, I'm hoping the belly will be cute. However, staring at it in the mirror, all alone in the apartment after a difficult evening, I felt absolutely ugly.
All I can say is, I'm glad I have a few days off. I'm glad I'm going to Chicago to see my family. And I'm glad that tomorrow can only be better than today.
Good night, folks.
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