It Makes You Cry

I’ve been struggling to lose the last of my baby weight. You see, right before I got pregnant I lost 20 pounds. It was a glorious time, and I was all set to continue down the health path. Then my husband knocked me up and I became a typically ravenous pregnant woman. I gained 65 pounds during my pregnancy. It wasn’t too difficult to lose 45 pounds of that weight in the past 10 months, but that’s where I’m stalled. Right where i was before I lost weight in the first place. The weight I sat at for years. Ugh.

So I joined the YMCA, I’ve been using their gym and pool. I feel healthier and stronger, but still not any thinner. I should be more particular about what I eat, but it’s tough because I love food. I worked out this morning then ate waffles and bacon for dinner. It was counterproductive in the most delicious way. Anyway, this comic is hanging on the lockers above the scale in the women’s locker room. It made me giggle (not cry), so I thought I would share.

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I walked into the laundry room and saw a huge spider. Mega spider. The sort of spider an arachnophobe dreads finding in her home. I yelled for my husband, also an arachnophobe.

“I’ve got a spider I need you to kill, and you’re not going to like the look of it!”

He saw it, shuddered, and found something to kill it with. It was in an awkward spot, perched high up in the corner behind the washing machine. I left the room, because if there’s anything worse than seeing a giant spider in my laundry room it’s seeing a giant spider move in my laundry room.

I’m safely out of the room, playing with the baby, when I hear, “Whoa! The fucker jumped at me!” This is totally not what I wanted to hear, and I said as much.

“Well, he’s gone,” says my husband.

“Gone?” I query. I’m completely unsatisfied with this.

“He jumped at me, and then dropped behind the washing machine. I’m not going to pull the washer out to hunt for the spider. He probably crawled into a dark crevice. I’m sure you’ll never see him again.”

I’ll spare you the whining and sniveling that came

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Mega Tomato

A couple of weeks ago I posted a picture of a giant tomato from my garden. It was still green, so we put it in a bag with some apples and bode our time. Lo and behold, the tomato ripened into the glorious yellow beauty it was meant to be.

We sliced it up, unsure of what we’d find. Would it be ripe inside? Would it be rotten to the core?

Perfect! It was perfect! But what to do with such a giant tomato?

Giant BLT!

So how was the tomato? It was delicious. Absolutely perfectly delicious. We even let the baby try it.

From her face you might be led to believe that she didn’t like it. You’d be wrong, though. That’s just the face she makes when she tries something new.

See? We took it away and she wanted more. You know you grew a tasty tomato when a baby likes it.

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The Worst Thing Ever

My mother-in-law gave me this yesterday. She was cleaning out some junk, and this was in the pile of crap she decided to get rid of. A friend of hers had picked it up at a yard sale thinking it was funny, and my mother-in-law was too sweet to tell that friend just how repulsive she thought the thing was. So she gave it to me, with instructions to “give it away or break it” making it very clear that she didn’t ever want to see it again. And who can blame her?

It’s awful. It’s horrendous. It’s even a little creepy. And you know what I’m going to do with it? Keep until Christmas, and then give it back to her. I have exactly 6 months to wait with this monstrosity, and I’m not sure I could make it even a day longer.

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Scheduling A Birth

Scheduling a birth is a very strange thing. I know exactly when my baby will be born. I know the date, I know the approximate time, and I can plan my schedule accordingly. While it’s extraordinarily convenient, it somehow just doesn’t seem right.

For example, 2 weeks ago I was able to schedule 2.5 weeks for our business to be closed. When customers called, I could say “The last day we’ll be working will be April 2, and then we’ll be closed until April 22 because we’re having a baby.”

Today, when I talk about tomorrow I can say, “We’ll go get gas in the car, stop at the post office to mail out our taxes, and we’ll go to the bank. Then we’ll go have a baby.”

How weird is that?

Since I know the birth is tomorrow, around 2:30, I can truly decide how I’d like to spend my last days. Last night my husband and I went out for a nice dinner. The last dinner we’ll have in a restaurant without spaghetti on the walls for quite some time, I imagine. I started with crab dip, he got bean soup. Then I got salmon with spinach and

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