...a dream that will neeeeeed all the love you can giiiiiiive, everyday of your liiiiiife, for as long you LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVVE!

I was just rereading over my blog because...okay I can't think of another reason than it is almost as good as hearing yourself talk. Anyway, I was rereading my blog and realized that I was much funnier in Seattle. Perhaps Colorado is not a funny state. Or maybe I am just a lot funnier when under extreme duress. I love that word. I suppose that makes sense: funny = coping mechanism. Aaaah. So since I have now entered The Salad Days and only worry about whether the orange or the red curtains would go better in the dining room, I have ceased to amuse.

In order to address this situation, I have decided to think of more things to be stressed about.
#1) I cannot go out in public without wearing an entire Joann Fabrics worth of spandex sucking in every wayward and rogue fat cell on my body. This is not good as the spandex tends to cut off my air supply ($.50 if you can name this quote: "'but mother! I won't be able to breathe!'. 'One night of suffocation isn't going to kill you'"). It also leaves VERY scary deep red canyons all over where my skin has been sucked in with too little mercy, which incidentally take hours to go back to normal. Sort of similar to having edema when you're pregnant and walk around with thumbprints in your feet all day.

#2) The amount of stretch marks I have could honestly be a world record. From neck to knees and slightly farther, I look like a striped tiger, although much less graceful and fluid (and hairy thankfully), and just a smidge less fit. No, I don't think a striped tiger does it justice. Those few of you lucky enough to have seen some of them, any suggestions? Looking for a righteous metaphor here. Honestly though, words utterly fail to describe the unholiness of these stretch marks. They are like mad beasts that multiplied underground and made giant troughs in my skin. Oh I know! They are like those nasty underground monster things that Kevin Bacon had to fight in Tremors. Man those were nasty, and these stretch marks could give those suckers a run for their money. This didn't bother me until now (I was feeling very noble and giving and put this on the list of maternal sacrifices for my little nugget) because Ammon wants to start taking Addy to the pool, and unfortunately, they tend to frown on mumus as swim attire as they tend to strangle and drown the wearer. I bought two swimsuits yesterday from the clearance rack at TJ Maxx (you can tell I don't consider this a good investment) but I am still too afraid to try them on. I just don't feel like I can inflict the site of these thighs on the unknowing public! Too cruel. I will have to wear sweats and hope I don't drown.

#3)I am stressed that I am the only person in my ward that does not own a denim dress/jumper/floor length button up skirt or vest. I will never fit in becuase I refuse to buy any of the aforementioned attire (I don't even know where you find that stuff anymore. Wasn't it all confiscated by the government back in the 80's and hidden in a nuclear waste plant?). Alright. I know. This is starting to sound snobby and judgemental. My apologies to denim everywhere. I will add for posterity that I do have a knee length denim skirt, but it in no way screams "everyone wore these in Can't Buy Me Love!", so it passed the test.