this week started off kuckoo bananas. i found myself in a lovely city (san francisco) for an unreasonably short amount of time (like 31 hours from touch down to take off) doing something so cool i had to keep pinching myself (seeing your name after “talent” on a production book isn’t exactly the first thing you think of when you start a baby blog in 2009). it was a whirlwind that i will never forget and likely never stop feeling grateful for. i will share the finished product with you guys pretty much the second i’m informed that it’s done.
SF welcomed me with gorgeous 65 degree sunshine, delicious food and a king size bed that was so comfortable i felt mocked when my alarm went off at 4:30 am on the only morning i was lucky enough to wake up in it’s gloriousness. it also welcomed me with an early monthly gift (most likely from the self produced stress – srsly i had no idea it was even on it’s way) which produced a really fun TP stuff-and-waddle to the corner 711 at 5 in the morning. nothing like a little pre-dawn humiliation to bring your ass back down to earth, no?
sorry male people?
i also got to meet my friend Meg for the first time, after knowing each other for 4 years. we had wine (hi, duh) and ate the most glorious brussel sprout dish ever to grace my mouthparts. i still can’t stop thinking about them. i know, get a life right?
once i was home, there were massive amounts of cuddles. interspersed in those moments of cuddles were moments of a tiny terrorist trying to plot my death. three is an….interesting age. it’s fun, yet, um, challenging. it’s…ok it’s like repeatedly punching yourself in the face and then jamming said face into a vat of nutella. is what it’s like. super painful and then really sweet. over and over.
but then she drew Goofy (seriously do you see that? i can’t even draw Goofy that well). so i mean.
also, beer.
let’s look at a few things i loved on the internet this week:
e tells tales asked her readers to anonymously comment their honest goals for the new year. 420+ comments later. refreshing honesty from lots of people. pretty kick ace.
this skirt Ellen made for Tessa is sew cute (omg see what i did there just then)! i wish i knew how to sew/had a sewing machine.
a valentine exchange – how fun! probably a lot more fun than in 5th grade when i wrote “i hate you” to the other Amanda in my class on her valentine and got in big trouble. i’m guessing.
the pugly pixel always has AMAZING tutorials and goodies for bloggers and this is one i can’t wait to sit down and try.
i met these two lovelyladies in SF also. you should check them out if you never have.
and one of the better videos i’ve seen in the whole Sh*t Blank People Say meme. funny.
like, the heavens (or whatever) opened up, michael c. hall looked down upon me and smiled. johnny depp did a roundhouse kick while kittens licked a tattoo of a narwhal onto me as an IV drip of the most perfect americano poured into my veins.
i had my first bra fitting.
you guys. LIFE CHANGING.
those of you who have had one, or multiple even, like normal people who don’t put off things like i do, probably just threw your hands up and yelled “I KNOW RIGHT!”. those of you who are in my boat and have never had one probably just covered your boobs at the thought of having someone fit you for a bra.
i’m here to suggest demand each and every one of you run, don’t walk, your ladies into a bra fitting RIGHT MEOW.
i was one of those lucky/unlucky ones who got boobs at the age of like 9 and got to figure out how i felt about that at the same time everyone else got to figure out how they felt about that. it was terrible, awkward, and i have never had a very good relationship with my boobs because of it. i resent them for lots of reasons – they made guys oogle me, take me less seriously, and most recently, they didn’t help me feed my baby when i needed them to. they aren’t my favorite, is what i’m saying.
so i guess instead of trying to make them the best they could be, i punished them by completely ignoring what would help them kick ace. LIKE A PROPER FITTING BRA. so i bought cheap bras at target in whatever size i assumed i was.
i’ve been wearing a 38 C or D for as long as i can remember. where did i get this number? one can only guess.
so last week, i was getting my stuff packed for a very important trip where i’d be on camera a lot. i told Scot there was no way i could go do such a thing with my ladies being all sad and…well, really effing sad. so i went to nordstrom for my first ever bra fitting. at 30 years old. that is approximately 21 years of boob-life without so much as someone measuring me or telling me my cup size.
so you can imagine my surprise/horror/omgwtf-ness as my boob handler matter-of-factly told me i was a 32DDD.
::crickets::
and you can imagine her surprise/HORROR/OMGWTF-ness as i informed her that i have been wearing OH MY GOD NOT THAT SIZE for my whole life. i wasn’t sure if she was going to hit me or pass out. i can only imagine what it’s like for a boob handler to hear how terribly boobs have been mistreated and neglected. it probably hurts their heart something fierce. suddenly in my head, my boobs in a bra too large and ill fitting sadly moped across a screen while sara mcLachlan sang in the background. i had the ASPCA commercial of breast situations happening.
she couldn’t get me the right size fast enough. within minutes my sisters were holstered into the most amazing, well fitting, glorious boob holster i had ever worn. it had memory foam cups you guys. and when i heard the size of my boobs, i was terrified i’d look like some sort of adult film star with the right size bra, but NO, they looked perky and not too big at all and that is when i saw ryan gosling. and he was all “hey girl. your boobies look hot today”.
since i doubt it’s appropriate to mouth kiss a boob handler, i thanked her profusely for changing my life and promised i’d come back to her for more bras in the near future (because let’s face it, i now own ONE bra that actually fits). when i put my old bra back on to go pay and leave, i think i heard my boobs say the f word. it wasn’t until then when i realized how dire my situation had been.
i will be mortally offended if those of you who have never had a bra fitting do not heed my advice to buck up and go get one. ESPECIALLY those of you with larger sisters. your life will be altered forever. your clothes will fit differently, your boobs will look amazing and you will all around be more comfortable. please do it. for the boobies.
tips before you go: shave your armpits and pick the sales person that looks the most friendly. they don’t see everything but you are in a bra-only situation. if you’re a mom, this probably won’t even bother you as everyone and their brothers have probably seen your nipples at some point, amirite? this is actually MILD compared to pushing a crotch monkey out of your nether regions.
be prepared to be at least a little bit shocked at your actual size. i mean, i was wearing a bra SIX INCHES too big for me around the chest. and 3-4 cups sizes TOO SMALL. no wonder my boobs were BFF’s with my belly button. GET THESE TATA’S SOME SUPPORT FOR CRYING IN THE RIVER. i learned that your shoulder straps should never be at the tightest, and same with your clasps in the back. that means the whole party is too big. there is also a correct way to get into a bra that involves a little shimmy at the end so they get into place. i went to nordstrom and had a wonderful experience, but i know a lot of places do bra fittings.
ok, i’m done. i think. hope you could read the post ok over the SINGING OF MY BOOBS. they have never been so happy.
now go back and re-read taking a drink every time you see the word boob. cheers!
sometimes life just gets the best of you, you know? lately there has been lots going on in our lives (good, bad and weird) and sharing things here just takes a back seat. luckily in the past few months i’ve gotten a lot better about letting myself off the hook for that. it’s not that i don’t have things i’d like to share, or topics i’d like to spend some time on (in fact i have ish knocking around in my head all day just begging to be word vomited on to the webs!). it’s just that time is a hot commodity around here. but it’s that way for everyone, isn’t it?
last night i had a dream about anderson cooper. we were in the same store! and he was just shopping around as if he wasn’t the most adorable giggly silver fox that ever was. in my dream i was all ready to go up and let him know that he was in fact all of those things. and in my dream, just as i had built up the courage to walk up to him, my phone alarm went off in real life.
so that was a bummer.
not as big of a bummer as AC only being in the same place as me in dreamland though.
let’s see, what else? oh, Harper cries when i pick her up from preschool now. when i pick her up. that is how much she loves it. she is the only kid trying to stay there. i go between feeling really happy about that (she loves it! we made the right choice!) and feeling really sad about that (she cries! when i pick her up!).
she can spell and write her name now. i don’t really know what to say about that. except that her R’s are really cute and funny.
this week we are gonna be potty training for reals. we are all stocked up on hello kitty underwear, chocolate, stickers, flushable wipes and resolve. if i’m not knee deep in pee for the next three days (spoiler alert: i probably will be) i may pop in and say hello. NOT with photos though. that is one thing i can promise you for sure. photos of me drinking wine after a long day of cleaning up pee, complete with puns about bodily fluids? i can almost promise you that with certainty.
i’m having a real dilemma with some boots i keep seeing at target. these guys. so they were thirty bucks. one time i saw them on sale for twenty. that is much closer to my target-shoe budget. but i didn’t buy them. so the price went back up and i was sad. but then! today they were on clearance for twenty. i didn’t buy them. which leads me to believe maybe i don’t reallllly want them, even though i think about them constantly. what are your thoughts? (ahem, about the boots, not about how insane i am).
i’ve been drinking a hot, steaming cup of denial over the fact that my kiddo is going to be three in 2 weeks. three years old. i can’t even. let us discuss another time, because just…no.
top: old navy // jeans: LOFT // scarf and boots: target // glasses: costal contacts // bracelets: h&m, f21, flourish
i don’t even know, you guys. this is what happens when you’re home alone, have had a venti coffee and use the self timer on your camera. you bring a cat into the mix so you feel slightly less weird, thus making you even more weird. psycho kitty was like, ok dude.
i’m pretty much breaking all the rules today (as if there are any). i didn’t actually step out anywhere. and i took these on friday because H and i will be in eastern washington this weekend with my mom for a memorial service for Gramps. he isn’t my grandpa, but he’s my cousins grandpa (i have a big, crazy family that is hard to explain), but he was an amazing man, we all loved him and he will be really, really missed.
psycho kitty will be here with Scot and the pups, just stoked i’m not bothering her really important sleeping/hurking regimen.
oh and i finally tried a sock bun! because even really freakin’ easy things look hard to me. turns out, it is really freakin’ easy. don’t pull a Mandy and wait to try this. and then you’re all “i didn’t, i tried it 6 months ago”. touche.
welp, this concludes the strangest SOS ever to be posted. carry on!
this week started off kuckoo bananas. i found myself in a lovely city (san francisco) for an unreasonably short amount of time (like 31 hours from touch down to take off) doing something so cool i had to keep pinching myself (seeing your name after “talent” on a production book isn’t exactly the first thing you think of when you start a baby blog in 2009). it was a whirlwind that i will never forget and likely never stop feeling grateful for. i will share the finished product with you guys pretty much the second i’m informed that it’s done.
once i was home, there were massive amounts of cuddles. interspersed in those moments of cuddles were moments of a tiny terrorist trying to plot my death. three is an….interesting age. it’s fun, yet, um, challenging. it’s…ok it’s like repeatedly punching yourself in the face and then jamming said face into a vat of nutella. is what it’s like. super painful and then really sweet. over and over.
