Weddings

I've never regretted the wedding that I had.  It wasn't the classiest affair by any means.  Who gets married in their parent's basement?  This girl.  I've always said (and, even more importantly, always believed) that it wasn't the wedding itself that really mattered.  It's the marriage. 

This train of thought is brought to you by a friend of mine who just got married, and then put up a link to her photographer's website.  I got lost on this girl's site one day, just in awe of all the beautiful weddings that she was lucky enough to photograph, and suddenly I found myself wondering what my wedding would have been like.  What kind of dress would I have had, and what kind of flowers?  What would have been my something blue and who would have walked me down the isle?  I've honestly never given it much thought.  I mean, we've been married almost 12 years now, that day has come and gone.  To be honest, I've always thought eloping was the best thing we ever did.  I was the matron of honor at my sister's wedding, and the details alone are enough to make me want to rub my head on pavement.  This was the first time that I can remember ever thinking about what it would have been like.......

Breakdown in Isle 3

For the second time this week (and perhaps my entire life), I cried in Walmart. 

Wednesday night, we ran to Walmart, and they have a salon at the ones here.  Emma desperately needed a haircut, so I took her over while Chip walked around with the other kids.  The lady there does an awesome job on my kids' hair, so I always look fo her.  After we were done, Aubrie throws this massive fit because she wants a haircut now as well.  I figured, since she's four, that like most things, this, too, would pass.  No such luck.  The next day, Aubrie found a pair of scissors and cut her hair.  (Incidentally, these are scissors I've been looking for FOREVER, and have no idea where she found them, but am now pretty sure she's the reason I couldn't find them.....but that's another blog.)  I got all the kids ready to go and headed back to Walmart to get her hair fixed cut. Once we got there, Brenna decides that she also wants a haircut.  Fine.  Two birds with one stone.  Awesome.  Well, Brenna's haircut is a little more complicated than just a simple bob, so her haircut took over an hour.  We were there almost 2 hours before we were done, and I go to the front to pay, only to discover that my debit card is not in my purse or wallet.  Awesome.  The lady, luckily for me, was super nice, and told me I could go home and get it, not a big deal.  But I seriously cried.  I hate feeling like an idiot, or being embarrased in public.  My kids are not always the best behaved and I struggled to keep them wrangled for the 2 hours she cut their hair.  Yes, they're kids and they have the attention spans of ants, but still.  I expect a certain level of discipline, but sometimes that expectation is far from met.  And since I can't beat them in public, they can get out of hand. And after all of that, I couldn't find my stupid debit card.  This is my life, folks. 

Today was a little different, though.  I ventured to Walmart all by myself.  I went in search of the dreaded bathing suit.  (Dum dum dum!)  I hate bathing suit shopping with a passion.  I get mad at myself every time I think of going bathing suit shopping for not keeping better tabs on my suit so I wouldn't have to buy another bathing suit EVER.  I actually found a few that looked decent, and made the mistake of thinking that trying them on was a good idea.  It wasn't.  I cannot express to you how pathetic it feels to cry in the dressing room of Walmart.  So not only do I look and feel fat, but I also look and feel pathetic as well. 

I'm going to be brutally honest here.  I'm not happy with myself.  I haven't weighed this much, except when I was pregnant.  I find it nearly impossible to find time to work out, unless I want to get up really early or stay up super late.  That is slowly changing, as it's summer and I have a friend who has a daughter who can watch the kids for me now.  But I'm mad at myself for letting myself go for so long.  I am not obese by any means, but I'm not healthy, I think, either.  I hate not having energy.  I hate that none of my clothes fit me anymore, and I hate that I have friends losing weight who give me their "fat" clothes........and they fit.  I see friends who have had babies who are at or below their prepregnancy weight and I want to scream.  I know that I will never truly be my "prepregnancy" weight.  I was 19 when I had Brenna, and 116 lbs when I got pregnant with her.  I think it's fair to say that's probably not a realistic or healthy goal for me at this stage of my life. I would settle for 130.   So, at least for now, I'm going to concentrate on what I eat, and at least walking three or four times a week.  I know I need to do it, I know I need to quit making excuses, and dang it, I need to quit crying in Walmart!