In my attempt to stay awake for the half hour before I go to another session, I shall tell you of my adventures this weekend.  Only one of which is really considered adventurous.

I am old.  And lame.  Therefore, so are my stories.

I needed a new bra, as evidenced by my breasts casting their own shadow.  I should’ve taken heed at Steph’s exclamation “YOU HAVE PORN BREASTS!” when we went walking, but she also said the same thing at month two.  So I kind of attributed her shock to wonder.  As in, “OHMYGOD, I didn’t know people could HAVE those!”

No, when I saw the photographic evidence, it’s that I was being borderline obscene.

But buying a new bra was, like, the final frontier into my admitting that my body is, in fact, getting larger.  Since I got down to my pre-pregnancy weight, I had always been a nice 36C (as Bryan noted, that’s the perfect breast size. Now that I’m pregnant?  I have PREGNANT boobs.. which are, by definition, imperfect.).  So I knew I was grotesque, but I didn’t want to know HOW grotesque.

I went to EVERY store in the mall that I could fathom going into (Hot Topic, for instance, was not graced with my presence) before I finally took a deep breath and wandered into Victoria’s Secret.  Some poor girl asked me if she could help me, and my floodgates opened.

“Yes, you can,” I began.  “IKNOWI’MFATANDI’MPREGNANTANDIDON’TKNOWWHATSIZEIAM.” By now, the tears were flowing pretty freely.

“Well, let’s get you into the back here,” which, I quickly recognized, is what they say to all the crazy people.

Once back there, I admitted that I knew I was probably some hugely ginormous size and she wouldn’t be able to truly tell my size because I poured myself into this itty bitty bra and I’m so sorry.  She just stood there, with the tape around me, and said, “Yeah.. you’re a 36D.  You should probably buy a 38, so you’ll be more comfortable.  But that should take care of you.”

Well.  Make ME feel stupid. (Rightfully so.)

So I got a new bra.  Then, later, the HIGHLIGHT of my weekend: I was talking to Ra on the phone and she said, “I’ve been meaning to tell you since I saw you on the walk the other night.. you’re looking pretty fabulous, you know?”  Awww.. no, I didn’t know.  But now I do.

Last night, I wanted a bell pepper. (Fried pickles, iced tea lemonade, and bell peppers are my cravings.) I also wanted to use my fancy new santuko knives.  You know, like Rachel Ray does.  And, of course, I promptly sliced my index finger to the bone and through the nail bed.  Which, as I mentioned earlier, was the complete SNL skit with Dan Akroyd as Julia Child.  There was blood everywhere, due to the nature of the injury and the pregnancy, and I was home alone.  Bryan suggested super glue.  Mom suggested stitches.  I just held my arm up over my head for an hour and then wrapped that bitch up.

Today, I look mighty fancy in my new bra and my Pirates of the Carribean bandages.