First, I had to return some shoes. They have been in my car for over a week, time to send them back. Of course I waited until there was a torrential downpour… Two days after getting my hair done (for those who don’t know, that’s a time consuming and costly expense I endure every three weeks). I made it in to DSW and was able to dry my hair off with the inside of my pants that functioned as a hat as I ventured into the store. I purchased an umbrella to make a classier exit…
Fail. As I combatted the wind and rain with my new black and white polka dot savior, I struggled to make the dry and classy entrance into my car. The right side of my head and the left side of my body are soaked. I reach for the napkins my mother insisted I keep in my car and rapidly raked the brown Chipotle paper down my hair, back and forth back and forth… No luck. The right side of my head is now twice the depth of my left. Panic sets in; I can’t walk around DC like this!!! Wait! I have bobby pins in my purse! You little black bendy sticks of heaven. I make some sort of half ponytail to salvage what I can of my ruined ‘do. Off to the metro.
As I pull into the mall parking lot, I realize… Parking is no longer free, oh what sweet hell is this? So many years ago, parking was free after six… Damn you bureaucrats! I rush through the mall only to run into a rubber tree plant (those damn ants!)… “ARGH!!!” Pushing the loiterers out of my way I rush to the metro, the blue line! Which side, which side? Luckily metro and I have a previous relationship… Off down the escalator sweeping quickly through the already closing doors… I made it! I redo my hair in the metro window laughing at the women in front of me debating on whether or not to stay with their cheating man, ahh, the mistakes of my youth.
I receive a text, my girlfriend who is stuck in traffic and won’t make dinner… Hopefully she’ll make the show. Damn! I hop off the metro and Google the location of the restaurant. As I step into the post-rainstorm muggy air, PLOP! Another GD raindrop right on the still dry part of my hair… Hahaha-hilarious. I walk my soaked body up half a block and take a seat in my two person booth… Dinner for one please, and a LARGE glass of wine. Pinot.
Last night I made a frightening discovery… I may have a gluten intolerance. No, this is not a fad. I would never joke about giving up my delicious breads and pastas, I live for baked goods. However, this overwhelming bloated feeling in my stomach day in and day out is beginning to impact my quality of life, as in, this is no quality. I wake up in pain and I attempt to fall asleep in pain. After doing some research, I found that I have several of the listed gluten intolerance symptoms: weight gain, bloating, depression, exhaustion, irritability and miscarriage.
Obviously I’m no doctor, the weight gain and bloating could be from one too many red velvet cupcakes, the depression has been a constant in my life since age 13, the exhaustion is a symptom of the depression, and the irritability and miscarriage could simply be symptoms of womanhood. However, put them all together and take my diet into consideration… I could be on to something. If so, anger will be my name. I’m already allergic to all nuts, shellfish, grass, mold, dust, dogs, cats and trees… now you take away my baked goods?! C’mon… what’s left?! (Please don’t tell me bacon has gluten; I might die.)
I’ve scheduled a doctor’s appointment, and I’ll do my best to not be the self-diagnosing patient that knows what’s wrong before they doctor steps in the room… but, oh what if it’s true?! I don’t want to be that “is this gluten free?” person. Those people get on my nerves! Dear lord, not my cupcakes!!!
Years ago, the sight of a positive pregnancy test would have scared the crap out of me. Today, I find myself peeing on a stick much more frequently than I’d like to admit. I didn’t believe the first positive test. The second one got me overly excited. Then came the professionals. The pee test was negative, the blood test was “border.” What the hell is a border pregnancy?!
All I wanted to know is can I drink or do I have to prepare for this maybe baby. Well, I didn’t want to screw up day one, so I refrained. Even though I took a beautiful trip to California… Catalina Island… Downtown… Hollywood… nope, no margaritas for this lady. No bloody marys. No mimosas… no pancake shot with jameson, buttershots, orange juice and a slice of bacon… Oh what hell is this?! Another ginger ale please!
Soberly I climb to the top of the LA observatory and my maybe baby leaves me. Nothing like watching a hormonal woman break down next to her sister while you try to watch a rare clear sunset above the LA sky. “Don’t mind me, just having a minor breakdown, please, go around, take your pictures.”
After I composed myself and took an extremely long nap the next day, I awoke with a new sense of self. It will happen, just not yet. I’ll see you soon maybe baby… until then… mommy’s going to enjoy a nice extra large glass of wine.