My mind is always on overdrive.
I think about things that run the gammet from silly to sophmoric.
I seriously think it has to do with being a mom. I think that once you start having children, your hormones work together with your brain cells and say, "Hey, let's really screw with her..." (If you didn't know already, the right side of the brain controls creative activity, while the left side controls logical verbal activity; both of which have been highly affected by motherhood).
Here are a few things I ponder...
Why does my 5 year old need to go potty "real bad" right when the food is delivered to our table at a restaurant. Even after I asked almost 10 times before hand?
Why does my SUV look like a family of 20 live in it? There are crumbs everywhere, books, Happy Meal toys, water bottles, movies, blankets, artwork, socks, hair clips, stuffed animals, fruit snacks and enough jackets to clothe an army.
Why do my kids like the clothes I pick out for them at the store, but once it's time to wear them, they find something wrong with them?
Why are my kids perfectly behaved and neat, model students at school, but are messy and fight like banshees at home?
Why does my 9 year-old insist she needs a cellphone? She doesn't know anyone but us.
Why do I bother printing out those "How to live on a budget" articles and never read them?
Why does everything look better in the catalogs? Nothing worse then getting that cute nightie set from the Victoria's Secret catalog (hoping to look like the waif who modeled it) and then being dissapointed after seeing it on-- looking like you just walked on to a porn set of a Heavyweight Humpers film.
Why is my 5 year-old obessed with the word TAMPAX?
Why do I become so judgemental when I see another women driving the car that I want (BMW 7 Series)? Right away I assume she's a gold digger.
Why do I obessess over the un-perkiness of my breasts?
Why is half my closet filled with stuff I wouldn't wear anymore?
Why do my children look like little cavepeople when I pick them up from school? Their hair is knotty and messy...clothes unkept...shoes untied. These can't possibly be mine.
Why do my kids whine and cry when I comb their hair but when dad does it, they're totally fine?
Why does the dog decide to shit a towel and diarrhea all over the place when my husband isn't home?
Why do I get poop cramps an hour after eating at McDonalds?
Why is my husband so particular about the type of toilet paper I buy? It's to wipe shit. Enough said.
Why is some toilet paper made with lotion? Who wants a moist bunghole?
Why, at 37 years of age, do I still have period accidents like a 16 year old?
Why can't I ever be the winning 1,000,000th visitor through the gates at Disneyland?
Why do I not have any willpower when it comes to desserts?
Why does my dresser look like a clothing bomb exploded inside?
Why do my children tell me they need to bring in a store bought snack to school at 10pm the night before it's due?
Why do I feel like keeling over from a heart attack after walking only 4 flights of stairs?
Why has my eliptical machine become a clothes hanger?
Why does my oldest kid not want me to kiss her goodbye at school anymore?
Why do I hate camping?
Why do I pray everytime I see a stranded motorist but never stop to help?
Why do I get drunk after one glass of wine?
Why do I become self conscious when I'm having sex and the dog is sitting there watching?
Why do I tell the nurse at the gynecologist's office not to tell me what I weigh? I turn my head when I step on that dumb scale.
Why do I think about all the vaginas my gynecologist sees and wonder if mine is the best looking?
Why do I lie when my doctor asks me if I do my own breast exams? Does my husband fondling them count?
Why do I look like the "before" pictures in magazines for weight loss ads? You know the ones I'm talking about- the fat, jelly, cellulite butt in a white thong next to the "after" pic of the tan, hard- as- a- rock touchable booty.
Why did I say no, when the urologist asked me if I wanted to watch while my husband got his vasectomy? Ugh, just the thought of burning penis skin turns my stomach.
Why do my towels have to be folded a certain way when they get out of the dryer?
Why am I convinced that my kids' stuffed animals reproduce like rabbits?
Why couldn't I have inherited the voluptous butt from my Latin side instead of the flat butt from my Asian side?
Why do I have to go to bed matching?
Why are men obessesed with Playboy nipples? They think all women should have light, little, perky nipples that stay that way--- forever.
Why do all my favorite panties look like they've gone to Iraq and back?
Why does my singing voice never sound as good as it does in the shower?
Why does the car always need repair right before a vacation or the holidays?
Why, when I see really obese women, do I think if I closely resemble them?
Why have my bikini waxing sessions become therapeautic?
Do you ever wonder these things?
It's just me, right?
or... is it?
.
1 comment:
Oh how I think so many of these same things. Obviously not the ones in reference to the tykes in elementary school, but for the most part it's all the same.
I live off of your insight on here. It's inspiration.
xo,
Jess
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