2 months later...

I am now thinking about going back to work. I feel a little like Marsha the mannequin from the Twilight Zone episode "The After Hours." Maybe the Monday I'm supposed to go back I'll "forget" and someone will give me a phone call to clue me in.

I am *almost* ready to return. I guess what I don't like is that it's not on my terms, but what is allowed by law. If I stay out longer, my company has the right to can me. It's not really the best motivator, but it'll do.

Then there is the issue on pumping. I am returning with faith that the people who manage the office space have found a spot for me that is not a bathroom, and not a place where people will barge in while I'm topless. I made this need known in April, so I'm assuming that was plenty of time. That's six months of warning. Almost seven.

I bought work clothes yesterday (groan). I am two sizes away (okay, let's be honest...three sizes. But I will settle for two) from where I want to be and the heaviest I have ever been. I don't know why I expect the 9 months of pregnancy and the extra I was carrying around before the 9 months is automatically supposed to fall off. It's not. It will with some work, but I had this unrealistic expectation that nursing would burn off the excess. While the kid is eating around the clock and she has nearly doubled her weight in two months (Li'l Miss Colossus is in the 98th percentile), it's not enough. I have been walking, I have been sort of doing the "Tupler Technique" I have to give myself more time. I guess with things like Facebook, I feel even more inadequate. I have a college classmate who had her baby a week after I had mine and she posted a photo of herself in a bikini and her husband holding the baby (proof that this is not some old photo) and she looks amazing. I have another college classmate who has 6 children and also sported a bikini photo over the summer. You would never guess that toned up midsection ever harbored a human being, never mind SIX.

But it's Facebook. People only post the flattering photos. You're not going to see everyone who's let themselves go, or who is now sporting cottage cheese on the thigh region, or who has stretch marks. Facebook reflects only the best side of everyone's lives which can make life seem even more unfair than it really is.

verdict

***WARNING***If you don't want to read another post about footwear, skip this post.

I ordered these in black suede...size 8 1/2. I waited for them to arrive and...they fit.

And also, let me give a special thanks for the shoe designing geniuses that realized the need for wide calf boots. I can still remember being a college student, ordering a pair of knee high boots from the J. Crew catalog (yes, the catalog. Remember those?), and when they arrived, being elated that they fit my feet and then dismayed when they did not zip all the way up. I can't blame fatness on this as I was 40 pounds lighter, 15 years younger and in the best shape of my life. I just have "generous" calves. They just plain did not fit, and no amount of wedging leg flesh in and pulling the zipper together would work. You can maneuver clothes in an overstuffed piece of luggage and you can suck in your gut while laying in the bed when zipping too tight jeans, but leg fat has nowhere to go. So hallelujah, the boots fit my feet AND my piano legs, and if you know me, you already know I didn't pay the price listed in the link above.

Tweethacked!

No, not me, but my sister--this morning I received this:
This made me laugh so hard when i saw this about you lol a6r.org/MKijV8ch (<---don't go there!) I thought it was a little weird, since we usually just email each other, but like an idjit, I clicked the link. It led me to what I thought was Twitter's homepage, so like an idjit, I logged in. And then came to a page claiming Twitter was having technical difficulties. I returned to the message, clicked the link, lather, rinse, repeat (you know, like a really big idjit), same results. But I want to see what she saw about meeee, I thought. Then I looked at the web address and thought--Twittejr.com? waiiiit a minute--this is not Twitter.

Clever hacker.

(yes, I know, I once posted this, and though I have created an account, I obviously have remained somewhat clueless about the mysteries of the Twitter.)

Desperately seeking studs

I love studs. There, I said it. I love studded things.

I like this. I stalked and bought this. I have leather gloves with studs, shoes and boots with studs and a belt with rounded studs. The issue then becomes making sure you only have one of these items on your body at a time. It's the same dilemma that comes with wearing animal print.

"Oh that trend won't last much longer" my mom said one or two years ago, but thankfully it's still going strong.

I was watching Life on Mars on Netflix. (Sidenote: TV shows always make the past look better than it actually did) This show takes place in 1973, the fashion dark ages, but there was a female character wearing a beige corduroy blazer and it had (wait for it) flat antique studs around the lapels. I thought, "Hey I have a beige corduroy blazer. I don't wear it as much as I should but maybe if I..." (runs off to Google)"...get crafty and put some studs on the lapel..."

You see? This is how it gets out of hand. I was actually contemplating a BeDazzler! Then I looked up reviews on Amazon and they are not so dazzling.

Hustle

I've written before about people having a hustle. I knew an Army major who would go to car auctions and find a car that someone wanted. She would pay the auction price and make money off of the difference the client was willing to pay. I have a friend who would do focus groups and mystery shop, and do product sample displays where people shopped. And we already know about Mary Kay and Avon (and Pampered Chef, Tupperware, and every other item you don't buy in the store that people throw "parties" for).

I think eBay is a great idea. Buy something for a bargain or regular price if it's in demand, and then set your price on eBay. It's going on right now with the Missoni for Target stuff. I think I could do that. Except I'm lazy. And maybe a small part of me feels bad jacking up the price of something well beyond what is on the tag (yes, I know, finder's fee and people are willing to pay). But mostly I'm lazy.

To the nines

I bought a pair of shoes while pregnant and I anticipated my post pregnancy shoes size while doing so. The shoes arrived and I tried them on, but they didn't fit. "Well, let's wait till I'm not pregnant and give it another go then." They still don't fit (sad horn). I had them in the donation pile when I realized my mom could wear them. They fit her. They look cute on her. So while I don't get them, at least I can visit with them. I'm not so worried about the new shoes though. It's the shoes I already know and love that pose a problem. Some of those shoes used to fit. And some of them were not cheap. They are in storage since we are getting the house ready to sell someday. I have this itch to go to the storage unit and find that box so I can try my favorites and be reassured that all is not lost.

I have a cute pair of flats that are still in the closet (not that there's anything wrong with that). I wore them to the first post baby date (Contagion, starring Matt Damon). They usually fit perfectly. This time they were slightly...tight. By the time we reached the theater they were uncomfortable. "I'm just not used to wearing closed shoes, that's all," I told myself. "I've spent the past 5 months in flip flops and my feet don't like being fenced in. They'll adjust." I even sort of said this to my husband for what? I don't know. Maybe some reassurance? It was one of those things where you add in a nervous laugh to show it's not really a big deal. Oh heh-heh, I may have to replace my entire shoe collection, but more shopping, right? Yay?

By the time we got home, I kicked off the shoes. The next day I looked up shoe stretching stuff on Amazon. There was a spray you could buy for leather shoes. One of the reviewers said you could mix alcohol and water and save yourself twelve bucks. I pulled out my husband's shoe trees and went to work a-sprayin' and a-stretchin. It helped. Some.

But there's a bunion. It's on the right foot. It's not big and obnoxious or hammer-time-y but it's there. People label problem areas on their body and my foot has its own problem area. The foot stuff started after my last pregnancy when I lived in flip flops. In the words of the podiatrist, "You're the youngest person I've seen with a heel spur." And on the bunion, she remarked, "Well, aging sucks."

So yesterday I bought a pair of shoes at T.J. Maxx. There were three in 8 1/2. I used to be a solid 8. After my first pregnancy, between 8 and 8 1/2. I'm assuming that now I am in the 8/1/2 to 9 range.

I went to the 9 aisle first. The 9 fit, but was a little loose. I went to the 8 1/2. The bunion was not happy. I went back and grabbed the 9. Then this morning, like a nerd, I looked up the shoe online and the reviewers said it was not true to size, which was slightly comforting. I don't know if I'm an 8 1/2 or a 9, though. I don't want to be in denial, shoving my feet into too small shoes because I can't accept the truth. My mom used to do this. Trying on too-tight shoes and saying "It's okay, they'll stretch." and I would say, "Why don't you just get shoes that fit?" Now I get it. When you are 5' 2 1/2 five foot three, size 9 is veering into boat territory. Just look at the display shoes in the store. Unless the small sizes are gone, that shoe will be a size 6, or 7 max. You know, the cute sizes, where the little details catch your eye instead of the length of the shoe. Then you look in the shoeboxes of the bigger sizes of that same style and ohhh. Not so cute.

It is all good if you're tall and the feet are in proportion but my feet are growing and I am not.

A Fool and her money

On a message board I visit, there was a post about Hunter boots. The boots in question are pictured above. She was asking if anyone had them, as she was considering a purchase. One of the people who has them and responded kindly (with a recommendation of where to buy them at a discount) pointed out elsewhere that this same person previously commented on the same boots with "Aren't those like $100?" (you could almost hear the hysteria while reading it). As in, "What kind of fool would spend $100 on some rubber boots?" It looks like pure hypocrisy as this person has now become the kind of fool that is willing to spend that much, but that's not how I took the alarmed response. I took it as, "I like those but I'm trying to justify why I would buy them." It's the agony of a cheap thrifty frugal person. I can relate to this.

There have been times where I have wanted a certain item but balked at the price. So what do you do when this happens? If the item never goes on sale or your size is sold out, you look for the cheaper less expensive alternative, usually made by another manufacturer. Sometimes it's a similar thing, but not a flat out knock off. Sometimes it's a blatant copy of something else (Sidenote: Skechers, you have no shame). Sometimes the copy is okay to get you by, but most of the time I wind up thinking, "It's close, but it's not what I really wanted." This means I wind up spending more because I go back for the real thing. When buying the faux version, I not only do I waste money, I also waste colossal amounts of time trying to decide what to do (buy the knock off? Get the knock off, decide I don't like it? Bite the bullet and buy the real thing...and so on. It would be a hell of a flow chart but illustrating that thought process would waste even more time. Let's just say I'm an all or nothing kind of girl (gal?) and probably better off buying the real deal if it's important. It's not like this with everything, though. I don't have a second thought over Heinz Ketchup vs. Noname Catsup. This agonizing only applies to big ticket items.

As for the boots above--I love them in that color. I might talk myself into getting them, however I am blessed with fat"healthy" calves and the wide calf versions don't come in cute colors, which means this fool will have to spend her $100 on something else.