It'd been a weird few weeks. The kids had been sick (but are now doing fabulously), work has been insanely busy, the house has been a wreck (that's not unusual). I am just exhausted. Physically and emotionally spent. So I pretty much have given up on life this week. I have been eating crap. I have pretty much existed on candy, Diet Coke, Moes, and hand-fulls of Frankenberry cereal. Gross. I hate to eat crap, it makes me feel like Jabba the Hut on the inside. I feel gross but have been powerless to stop it.
I've been putting my hair in a pony tail and wearing scrubs to work all week. Let's face it - scrubs are just one step above pajamas. They are called SCRUBS for Gods sake! I have been a scrub this week. I have been wearing sweatpants out in public. No makeup. I could be on that People of Walmart website if I shopped at Walmart.
On Thursday I had event to attend with my husband's job. It was at a hotel, his boss and co-workers were supposed to be there. I was desperate make myself look presentable. As much as I have given up on everything "me" this week, I am still a little vain. When I am out with my husband, I want to be the pretty wife. It shouldn't matter. It doesn't matter what you look like - being the smart wife, or the funny wife, or the devoted wife should mean so much more. But everyone wants to be the pretty wife.
So I made an effort - I plucked my eyebrows, shaved my legs, and I even.....wait for it.....blow dried my hair! I traded in my scrubs and sneakers for a dress and heels. I didn't want to, but I did. I looked in the mirror and thought, "Who is this person? She is way hotter than that sweatpant wearing beast." It was good for me. It broke me out of my funk. The next day I didn't eat crap. I made a spinach tart for dinner. I still wore scrubs to work, but I'm getting there.
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