Yesterday was Hadley's Kindergarten graduation.
Was I overcome with emotion as I reflected on how much my little girl had learned and how much she had grown? Um no, I was freaking the f*ck out because I had nothing to wear.
This isn't a particularly formal occasion, but I thought it would be nice if I stepped out of my jeans/tshirt/cardigan uniform for a night. However, nothing fit me but my maternity clothes and the thought of wearing a maternity dress while hauling my eight-month-old baby on my hip made me want to drink myself drunk, which would probably be frowned upon at Kindergarten graduation.
In an act of delusion and desperation, I opened my "skinny" closet where all of my old clothes live alone and neglected. Once I got pregnant and started showing, which was pretty much as soon as that stick turned blue, I moved my maternity clothes into the hall closet so I wouldn't have to look at the clothes that would not longer fit me. I looked at this as a pre-emptive strike in the event of post-pardum depression.
I've been wearing clothes out of that fat closet for nearly a year now. So, I thought that possibly I could make something in my "skinny" closet work for the evenings event. I think I was about 25lbs too early.
Could I wear my pajamas?
What was the point of this graduation anyways?!?!?!? Of course I'm proud of Hadley but let's face it - unless your kid is the one sniffing glue, he's going to pass Kindergarten.
What was most depressing about my trip into my "skinny" closet was that I was forced to face something that I knew but didn't want to think about: I have no clothes for summer - NONE.
Last summer my eggo was preggo (who doesn't love Juno?) - and the summer before that I was 25lbs lighter. Oh what's a chubby girl to do?
I know what you're thinking - "Good lord lady - have you been sniffing the glue? Just get some new clothes!"
But as of now, I refuse to spend money on clothes that I'm pretty much counting on Jillian Michaels to shrink me out of.
So ....I decided to go to Wal-Mart, whose slogan should really be Cheap Clothes for Chubby People. However, they had nothing for me but frustration.
Therefore I hauled the baby and Cameron, the 4-year-old, to the department store across the street, where I knew I'd spend more money but had decided at this point it was worth it.
I had a few options and took them into the torture chamber, I mean dressing room, to try them on.
Of course, right on cue, Jack made that face. You know the face - the one where your baby takes a gigantic crap at the most inopportune time and he seems to think he did something great.
I said aloud, "Oh great - the baby just pooped."
"Oh gross!" Cameron screamed.
And with that, Cameron swung open the door and ran out of the dressing room at full speed leaving me with too tight pants down around my ankles and several elderly women starring at me in my underwear.
I stepped out of the pants - threw on my jeans - all with the door wide open. I turned that stroller around and ran out after Cameron.
I found her, resisted the urge to beat her, left the store, changed the diaper in the mini-van, and went home. I figured I could squeeze myself into a skirt that almost fit - go to the graduation and just not sit down.
An hour or so later, Hadley came home with this note:
Inconvenience? I just bared my ass to the elderly. No...no inconvenience at all.