Thursday, September 15, 2011

There is a mouse under my arm...

I have on a cheap Walmart bra. I don't remember what brand, but I'm a full-sized gal, so I tend to try to find better quality. Anyway, I was in a pinch and bought this $8 bra at Walmart.

You usually to get what you pay for. Every time I move my arms, the wire in the bra squeaks against the fabric. In the front and on the sides.

At first, I was really embarrassed by this. I mean, it pretty much draws attention to my chest, which doesn't need more attention. The embarrassment was soon taken over by hilarity. You see, I work with men. I'm the only girl in my office. And the squeak is not a quiet squeak. It's pretty obvious where the sound is coming from. So when it happens, whoever I am talking to at the moment averts his eyes. Usually there is some sort of stuttering involved. I might as well start talking about my period.

I think I'm going to have buy some more $8 bras. So worth the entertainment value.

Sunday, September 11, 2011

Whose feelings?

M was invited to a birthday part last night. Well, part of one. You see, one set of invitations went out for the weiner roast and marshmallow toast and one set went out for that plus a sleepover. M wasn't invited to the sleepover.

All of her friends were at this party. Most of her softball team and many of her school/cheerleading friends. When we had to pick her up and leave, she started asking, "How come the other girls get to stay the night?" And I had to tell her that "we" didn't get the invitation to stay.

She got over it rather quickly. I told her we had church in the morning, anyway. It pretty much just got dropped. But then today, the mom who was hosting the birthday party started posting pictures on Facebook of the slumber party and all the girls who were there and the t-shirts they had made for the party.

And I started feeling a sort of righteous indignation. I'm irritated, almost angry. How dare she have such blatant disregard for my daughter's feelings?

Then I realized: M doesn't Facebook. She'll never see these pictures. Maybe, just maybe, it's MY feelings that are hurt. You see, I thought that the mom of the birthday kid, as well as the other moms, was my friend. My husband even printed the invitations for this party at a pretty decent discount. The whole evening made me feel like that kid in middle school who is trying so hard to fit in and just doesn't. ever. quite. get there.