Ok, after the epic entry from yesterday (sorry for any who couldn’t care less about the wedding. I’ll move back onto sarcastic bitching about other people and vagina jokes shortly) I’m ready for some snippets.
The receptionist outed me at work. She actually asked me point-blank if I was pregnant. Well, I am just about 12 weeks, so I told her yes. I had thought people knew better than to ask this question (especially after the mean Russian lady asked me long before I got knocked up if I was pregnant and I snarkily responded with, “Nope, just fat apparently”). But whatever, I guess since I can’t really hide the belly anymore, I may as well embrace it.
As just mentioned, the belly is undeniable. I know, I know. Isn’t it awfully early to be showing? I thought this too, and started to worry that I was doing “pregnancy” wrong. Then a relative pointed out to me that I have the shortest waist known to planet earth. (Seriously, from the bottom of the rib cage, to the tip of my pelvis: 7.5 inches. This is why I hate clothing.) And in her words, “The kid has to go somewhere, and up is not an option. So, out it is.” Fair enough.
I sat on a training phone call for about an hour today. Nothing off about that. Until we got the last 15 minutes of the call, wherein the person doing the training admonished me in 4 different, long-winded ways that it’s really important to SAVE your work. Umm, duh? I’m pretty sure we’ve all been employed for a while here, do you really need to be told, as if this is novel information, that SAVING YOUR WORK is important? I didn’t think so.
All I’ve wanted to eat for the last 3 weeks is a taco salad from Togo’s. So, that’s what I eat, minimum 3 times a week. Yes, I should feel more embarrassed about that than I actually do.
That’s all I’ve got.
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