I love the holidays. Truly. I love having my kiddos around and my husband underfoot. Constantly. Every where I turn, there he is! It. Is. So. Awesome. I tease. It is nice to have him around, he’s just not good at relaxing and enjoying the moment. I’ve mastered slug-life, my husband, not so much. For the most part, he has to be doing something. Luckily, Santa brought man-child an Xbox One and the new Star Wars game for Christmas. Yeah, so now I’m privy to conversations like these:
“Stop yelling at me!” – husband
“Just let me play, I’m learning!” – husband
“Will you just sit over there and be quiet, it’s my turn!” – husband
“What!??! NOOOOO!!!! That is such crap!” – husband
“This gun is crap.” – husband
“If you don’t stop, I’ll turn it off and no one will play!” – husband
“Mommy, dad says I’m yelling at him, but I’m just trying to help and it’s my game.” – man-child
“Turn that frown upside down” – man-child
“I would if we didn’t have to wait because you were jerking around, quit fiddling with the buttons and just press B!” – husband
“Are you quitting because I’m better than you?” – man-child
Good times. LOVE the holidays.
I’m very excited to spend the gift cards I received. Specifically, my Victoria Secret gift card. The first place I lose weight is my boobs. I’ve lost almost 70 pounds and I’m convinced that it’s been like 25 pounds per boob. Needless to say, I need new bras.
My oldest daughter and I were watching the DVD series I got for Christmas. We had just returned from a 3 mile walk in air you could literally chew, it was so humid and ridiculously hot for December at a balmy 76 degrees. My face was bright red, my hands swollen, sweat dripping from pretty much every body part. Super sexy. I’m wheezing, dying. My daughter sits down beside me on the couch and pulls the heavy fleece blanket over her mid-section. I don’t even want to be wearing clothes at this point.
“How can you stand to be covered up with a blanket right now?” I ask her.
She says, “I have to cradle something in my lap, over my stomach, when I sit down.”
I look down and say, “Yeah, well that’s what my boobs are for…”
So yeah, I need a new bra. I don’t even know what size bra I need. My daughter says that I should just let them measure me at the store. Yeah, that’s not happening. I’m sure I can find a tutorial on YouTube or something. She thinks I’m being ridiculous, but I’m not having my boobs measured by a stranger. Period. I’m just super excited that I can fit in anything they sell at Victoria Secret. I’m hoping there are some good after Christmas sales, cause a $75 gift card at VS will buy you like…half a bra. Normally, I would just buy my lingerie from Target. However, I do feel like VS lingerie is sort of decadent, like exotic candy, and I deserve a treat. I might buy some panties too. I hate that word, panties. I’m not sure my bottom half would get the coverage it requires from the VS panty. I’ve folded my daughter’s laundry. I thought it was a piece of lint stuck to the side of her pajama bottoms until I peeled it off and realized it was actually underwear. If you can call it that. I like the security in knowing my bits are covered, plus I’m a little concerned that underwear that tiny might actually get lost if I attempt to put it on. Taking off your underwear shouldn’t be a search and rescue mission. Color me silly, but I want to actually feel like I’m wearing underwear. I don’t do commando. I’d rather have a panty line honestly. Even if it’s a granny panty line. Bless those companies that try to make big girl panties sexy. You can put lace and bows on a tent, it’s still a tent. I love this scene from Bridget Jones Diary, cause I mean seriously, who hasn’t been here at one point or another? Right?
As a woman, it often feels like we have only 2 choices, functional or sexy, but rarely both, at least when it comes to lingerie and shoes.
The girls and I have talked about how scary it must be sometimes for a man to wake up next to a woman for the first time. She’s taken out the hair extensions, wiped the make-up off, stripped the false eyelashes, taken out the contacts, shed the push-up, padded bra and shimmied off the spanx. He must feel so disoriented and confused. Poor guy.
Well, I’m off to shop. No there will not be pics. You’re welcome ❤