This is a thing that you should do. 8 glasses a day or some such. Usually, I'm really good at this. I've got a lovely purple...thingy...that holds a litre of water, and I consistently drink 2 of those a day while I'm at work--one before lunch, and one after, while running to the bathroom every 45 minutes. On the weekends... well, then I just sort of drink whatever sounds good when I feel thirsty, or with a meal, because that's what you do. I certainly don't drink water, because I don't know if you know this, but Dallas water tastes like dirt. Really. Not exaggerating or being picky. It does. And Plano water tastes like algae all summer. So, I don't drink tap water, and while we have a Britta pitcher, it is insufficient to take the taste out of the water, so I mostly just drink milk like it was going out of style.
Only now, I'm thirstier than I ever remember being when indoors. So weekend drinking is a problem. I bought a Britta water bottle, thinking that would help, and I keep it next to my bed because when I wake up at 3am thirsty, I'm slightly less picky about the taste of my water, mostly because I'm trying to take a drink while still as asleep as possible. It turns out I'm trying to do lots of things while mostly asleep these days--walk to the bathroom, rearrange the cats, throw pillows towards the dog who is chasing something in his sleep, nudge my husband into a more comfortable (for me) position, steal his pillows, completely destroy the covers on the bed, rearrange some more cats, go to the bathroom again, and yes, take a drink from my purple Britta bottle.
The Problem With Merging
It's like a zipper people! Like a zipper!
My long-neglected 80s station
Oh Pandora! I think the answer to making a station good again is to ignore it for five to six months. Then it's so grateful to be played that it only plays the best and most awesome songs. So far, this theory is holding true.
Dreams I can't even begin (and won't try) to describe and their subsequent effects on my sanity:
Um... so, it seems that whatever I watch on television (read: Hulu, so my computer really) will get twisted and morphed into my dreams. This would be fine if I didn't tend towards sci-fi shows and murder mysteries. Hyper-realistic dreams with strange imagery that leave me confused about reality when I wake up? NO GOOD. Thankfully, my husband is the only one who has to endure the details on a daily basis. I shall spare you that much, I just wanted to say that I'm torn. I really want to keep watching Castle & Doctor Who, but... but... the dreams!
Is this the day?
I keep thinking that this is the day that I will stop being queasy. This is it! I feel great! I go about my day and then I make some simple mistake, like smelling something, or standing up too fast, or looking at the fridge, or thinking about food and then I'm squinting at everything and flapping my hands and talking to the cats about how this is totally sucky. I mean, I saw the cutest little bouncing fetus on that screen, so, you know... worth it in an abstract sense, but that doesn't stop me from wishing I was one of the lucky 25% of women who don't get all queasy at the very thought of food words. Also, I wish that my stomach were consistent in what it wanted/didn't want. Some days, the smell of sweet things sends me running. Other days, I just want to eat an entire bag of mini marshmallows. (I didn't... I ate it over the course of a weekend, which is remarkable restraint I think since it was the only thing in the whole house that didn't sound or smell terrible at the time.)
Also, when do I start glowing? I would like my glow now. What I've got instead is a flashback to 1995--pimply & awkward. I know I've got a while before I stop looking lumpy and start looking maternally round, and while I would like to get to that stage soon, I'm also liking still wearing (most of) my pants, especially since thus far there is no such thing as a pair of maternity pants that will fit my butt and still touch my feet. Too fat for tall pants, too tall for fat pants. I'm looking into Bella Bands and skirts for now. I mean, this struggle isn't exactly new to me. I've pretty much always been on the borderline between "misses" and "womens" sizes--which, anyone else find the naming annoying? Anyway, being a size 16/18 means you get equally dirty looks walking into Lane Bryant and...I was trying to think of some other regular store that I shop at, but, I'm a Target kind of girl, so, that doesn't really help my example any. I was going to say Ann Taylor, because I have braved their store sometimes. My top half is slightly more average than plus-sized--at least for now. I love my maternity tops because they are long, and on a tall lady, that's pretty flattering, so I wear those now to hide my hudge anyway. I am looking forward to having "the belly" though, even though I can't in any way, shape, or form imagine it. I see my friends growing and see their bellies getting bigger, but I look at me and think... nope, this is the same body I've always had...
Getting a shiner
No, not the beer, sadly. I seem to have lost the ability to put on purple eyeshadow without looking like I ran my face into a doorknob. This is sad for me on many levels. One, purple is my favoritest of all the colors, which anyone who's taken a peek at this site can tell. Two... um, I really like make-up and purple was always my go-to color. Supposedly it brings out the green in my sort-of-hazel-but-mostly-brown eyes, which is totally enough of an excuse for me to wear it. Only now--not it's not doing me any favors. Lucky for me, I don't actually bother with eyeshadow all that often, so I'm not terribly worried. I also have about a million colors to choose from at home, so I've got options.