Picture the scenario...
We're getting ready for the last-day-of-preschool picnic, where all three of our kids will be presented with their "me" books -- Jacob, off to kindergarten, Brady, graduating to the Pre-K room and Lucy, a graduate of the parent/tot class and soon to start summer camp as an official preschooler.
To mark the occasion, I wanted to wear a little something special. Nothing too crazy but perhaps a new summer dress to celebrate my kids accomplishments and the smokin' hot season's arrival. Because I don't shop the way I used to -- how I miss dropping ridiculous money at my favorite boutiques -- I grabbed my 30% off coupon and headed down to the local department store (I won't mention which but it rhymes with Schmohl's). I got myself one of those little numbers that you imagine on some young, adorable little thing and think 'if it looks half as good, I'll be ok.'
I bring home my purchase and try it on for Jeff. If only I could find the words to clearly communicate the expression on his face when I modeled my purchase, giving it a little twirl. It was like he was at dinner at a girlfriend's parents for the first time and just bit into a chunk of tomato. Not as bad as if it had been an onion but certainly not his favorite. But the nice guy my husband is, he's one to just grin and bear it.
I recognized the conflicted expression on his scruffy face but since we needed to pick up, I mean MAKE, our homemade picnic dinner for the event, I ignored his reaction and we went happily on our way.
Later that evening, with Jeff off to work and after finally getting the kids down to bed, I uploaded the pictures from the picnic. Along with the adorable shots of my kids with their teachers and receiving their commemorative books, was THIS...
HOLY RUMP, BATMAN!
First of all, I am sincerely hoping images in photo are smaller than they appear (Jeff says "it's a bad angle"). I know it's been a while since a good workout and I've been living for two weeks without a scale but WHOAH. Note to self: lay off the wine and chocolate.
If you were a betting person (aren't we all?), I would put money on my making the trek down to Schmohl's to return a certain item this morning. And honey, next time I ask... give it to me straight. With these nice readers as my witness, I beg you to never let me leave the house looking like a house -- ever again.