I think tomorrow's the day I do it. Tomorrow's the day I wear a skirt to work. Maybe I should wait until Friday. There's no shipment on Friday. Just signage. Which shouldn't involve ladders for any reason. Unless they switch me to something else, like they did this morning... I'll have to think on this decision.
The reception this past weekend went wonderfully. Like everything else major that happens in this family it came down to the wire. People were showing up and my dad hadn't even showered yet. He was hanging out in sweat pants and he was all sweaty and gross from moving tables and chairs. But we got it together before Jeremy's guests showed up. My family knows what to expect, his doesn't. I'd like to keep them in the dark a little bit longer.
It got a little too loud for my tastes later into the night. And people kept deviating from my playlist. I would've preferred the music to stay big band and swing and a little mellow, but I know everyone loves to dance. Except my husband. But we did get our one dance, a slow song of course. It was after most guests had left though and we were the only ones really paying attention so naturally there are no pictures.
In fact, there aren't really any pictures of anything aside from one big group photo and Jeremy and I cutting the cake. Twice. We did it the first time and nobody said anything to me about pausing to mug for the camera, cause that's not something I generally do, so we had to pretend we were cutting it a second time. And I look pregnant in the pictures. I had meant to pick up some Spanx or something but I just never got around to it and I really regret that decision now. I also really regret having friends and family who let that happen with no regard for myself and the people that I can't show these pictures to because I'm self-conscious. Thanks family.
On the other hand at least I wasn't wearing Spanx and then blatantly showing them to everyone because I don't know how to sit like a lady. Talking about one guest in particular here, but no I won't be specific. Cause what if they actually read this. Oh snap.
I do love the web page for Spanx. None of those women look like they need the item they're modeling. Is that because that's how amazing Spanx are? No. Because I can count the one models ribs. She could be a xylophone. The plus-size page is my absolute favorite. Not one of those bitches is bigger than I am. I either need to get me some Spanx for just like, all the times, or I need to reevaluate my eating habits and exercise regime.
I made Jeremy watch The Usual Suspects last night. He didn't seem as impressed with it as I was. My one brother even told me the ending before I saw it and I was still amazed with it. But Jeremy was like, 'it's good.' Which is basically like saying, 'meh.'
I spent my entire shift at work organizing jeans in the dude department. Four hours of just, reading planograms and muttering angrily under my breath about how stupid the fuckers who shop there and who work there are. Before I started, my supervisor asked me if I know how to POG (read a planogram, and follow it) and I stared at her blankly for a moment before thinking of a polite response. Because the first one that came into my head was along the lines of, 'are you asking if I'm at, or above, a third grade reading level?'
My family asked me how my job hunt was going this weekend. 'I saw on Facebook you were talking about being tired of interviews, mah mah mah.' I hate not seeing people for a while and having to catch up and be like, yes I do still work at that crappy job. And live in that crappy apartment. And drive that crappy vehicle. I couldn't even be like, 'and this is my husband, Jeremy,' cause he's already met all of the family that was there.
At one point, I started saying hi to people, re-greeting them, and saying, 'and of course you remember my husband.'
Because nothing else has changed.
...Sigh
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