Keeping Pace

Keeping Pace

Archives for November 20, 2007

Zombies in the night

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We are leaving early in the morning, and I don’t have my daily posting for NaBloPoMo ready. have another post started, but I won’t be finalizing it until later. Instead, I am sharing a moment that I am NOT proud (because BoBo is proud of it). So until my other post is done…

BoBo and YaYa were driving me nuts as I tried to finish paying the bills. It wasn’t as if they were fighting. Still, there was a constant commotion with YaYa hovering by BoBo’s door. I listened to the chatter. Throught BoBo’s closed door YaYa yelled, “There’s not any zombies!” But BoBo told him otherwise, “Momma is a zombie.”

YaYa came in, smiling ear to ear. I put my arms out straight and groaned. YaYa laughed and came to give me a hug. I lurched and YaYa jumped. He was no longer laughing and I now felt bad. I told him that I was sorry, but he refused to talk to BoBo or me. So much for playing the game. I really am sorry.

Melt down

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In the lingerie department at Nordstrom a sales clerk brought me a couple of bras to try on. They were not the pretty bras that I wore in my 20s; they were the functional type. She left me in peace to try them on and make a decision on whether or not to purchase them. I looked in the mirror at my image and wondered how it all happened.

I already had the answer. It was aging. “After you reach 40…” my doctor had said, “the hormones change and your body responds…” Screw change – I’ve already had more than my share of it.

I always thought that your breasts got smaller as you aged. They aren’t needed anymore for feeding babies. Mine aren’t needed for *anything* anymore. I guess Mother Nature has a sick sense of humor. Rather than just letting them shrink away, she changes the breast glands to fat. Fluffy fat cells are taking over all of my body.

I lingered in the department, looking at the pajamas on the sales racks. The more I looked, the more depressed I got. I’ve been wearing my grandma’s flannel nightgown to bed for years now. It’s not real flattering, but they are comfortable and warm. The problem with Nordstrom’s pajamas section is that the pjs are either too sexy or too much like grandma’s old lady pjs.

While I want to shed the dumpy look, I can’t be wearing sexy pjs while in a house of raging boy hormones. I just wanted something soft and pretty. I finally selected a pink shirt that would go with the pajama pants that I have at home. It will do for now. By the time I checked out at the register tears were filling my eyes.

I took my bag of ugly bras and the pink shirt from the sales clerk, then I walked *briskly* out of the store, through the mall, and towards the parking lot. All around me were Christmas decorations and happy shoppers, strolling along as slowly as they possibly could. These people were what was between me and the safety of my van. I wanted to plow right through them and yell at them. MOVE IT. I wanted to call someone who would just listen.

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