Today wasn’t any different. For some reason I let my fiance rope me into going to The Anti-Drug Warehouse with him (and when I say somehow, it’s because this
assface cannot keep his eyes open to drive. I do not want to be widowed before married.) to keep him company. Apparently being there 3 days a week, 2 hours a day, isn’t enough.
Now, like all men, he claims that they messed up the time on his appointment, and instead of it being 9:20 in the mother effing AM, it was 10:40 – which is a slightly more humane time.
He said, “It’s just a doctor’s appointment, babe. I’ll be in and out in about 5-10 mins, babe. No one will even see you, babe.” Which, honestly, usually happens. This doctor is no joke. A ‘wam, bam, thank you ma’am’ kinda guy. So, I woke up, grabbed my purse and a cup of coffee, then out the door I went with him like the amazing fiance I am.
Which brings us here.
Since he’s been sleep deprived due to being the bread winner and working from 4-6 AM, he fell asleep within minutes, while I sat there in disbelief at my predicament.
- My hair? All over the damn place.
- Makeup? Non-existent. Well, wait, I lied – left over eyeliner was rubbed furiously around every inch of my face during my coma-like slumber, making me look like a cracked out racoon.
- Clothes? PJ’s, red flanneled, and completely unflattering in every aspect.
- Bra? HA. Bra’s are for people who actually have chesticles. I, for one, do not.
So, naturally, I hid in the car while he snored and sputtered, trying to crawl into the glove box before anyone could witness this catastrophe.
Hell didn’t I just throw on a bra? A shirt that wasn’t a 3xl? Perhaps even a pair of ACTUAL pants? I mean, I could be on “The People of Walmart” at this point, and everyone would’ve just nodded as they scrolled through the horrific pictures.
Whatever, right? At least I didn’t have to go in the building. I can just wait it out, and when he was done, we’d be on our merry way back home where I apparently belong.
Until it happened.
I had to
But THIS wasn’t just a normal, ‘oh jeez, I gotta pee – eh, I’ll wait.”
This was like “If I don’t go now, I’m gonna
piss myself”, kinda problem. In a panic, my mind raced with ways I could get in and out of the building without anyone seeing me. I imagined myself flipping through the air and into open windows, dashing down the halls with my shirt over my face, and being victorious, I saw myself sitting in the women’s bathroom with a cigarette lit, and a smug little smile on my unwashed face.
So what did I do?
I stayed in the car, like any mildly ridiculous woman-child would do. I held onto my ‘dignity’ (if that’s what you wish to call it) for one more day, and vowed never to leave the house without at least a bra on.