Something Shiny!

No, not mine. We’re anxiously awaiting news on John’s youngest brother’s wife, whose due date was Friday and who was, as of last night, 75% effaced. (I say that like I know what it means, but I don’t. I’m content to be ignorant, though, which is a rarity for me.) This baby ride has been very different from the other baby rides for which I’ve been An Anxious Observer (TM). Partly because we’re super close to the parents-to-be, and yet, geographically, we find ourselves helplessly far away. Partly because we were the first to know (weeks before the rest of the families, woot!). Partly because, well, they seem so young. They’re not, of course, that young. They’re five years younger than us. But for a person who still feels too young to have kids… well, you can see where this is going. Ahem. Anyway, for now, we wait. On pins and needles and with bated breath, we wait.

Without going into too much detail (read: not any, no, not at all), I think it’s time to admit that I’m lactose intolerant. Naturally, as with anything having to do with me, it’s a fickle problem. Skim milk and yogurt? Yes. Ice cream and anything made with buttermilk, including baked goods? No. Solidly no. Which: how unfair is that? I can’t eat ice cream?!? Who’d I piss off in my previous life? Still there’s hope on the horizon. John, for example, is convinced that a product called Lactaid might help. That said, he’s not sure if a) he made the product up or b) if the product is real but, instead, is intended to help women breastfeed. Ahem.

I bought a new bra from Victoria’s Secret the other day. It was, from the catalog description, exactly what I was looking for. Nothing fancy, nothing complicated (if you’ve seen some of the bras they’re offering, you know what I mean). Plus, it was on sale. Bonus! Then I noticed something else in the description: swell, it said. “Swell: lightly lined.” Great, I thought! I don’t want anything padded or pushed or even pumped. It seemed like the right, er, fit for me. And then it arrived. Swell: lightly lined? More like, swell: implants. I looked in the mirror and, what the hell? Suddenly I looked more like Dolly Parton than myself. I sent it back. Swell indeed!