Do You Have a Boyfriend? No. I Have a Baby.
So okay…I started back to work. Proof of this in my appearance and the fact that everything in my life is one big blur. And blur might even be an overstatement…everything is one big black hole in my brain.
I didn’t know it was St. Patrick’s Day until I sat down to write the intro page for my newscast and I looked on the calendar to see what day it was and low and behold…it was St. Patrick’s Day.
Then, later in the day I was reminded of this holiday and alllllll that comes with it.
Here is when that reminder took place…
If you recall, the weather was simply delightful. And A VERY kind friend was staying with me to give me a consistent second set of hands, some homemade food and some much needed laughs and company. She also gave me the opportunity to go for a run. Which I did along the Hudson River.
On my way back from the run, hoards of people who DID NOT forget it was St. Patrick’s Day were making their way into Manhattan.
There they are with their “to-go” cups of beer and there I was with my sweat soaked shirt.
I was seriously so happy that I was able to go for a run and to listen to my workout music that I was on the verge of tears…I was taking deep breaths, cooling off and someone tapped me on the shoulder and started jogging beside me.
Someone that was holding a beer instead of an ipod.
Person celebrating: “Hey, HEY!”
Me: (taking out my ear phones) “Yes?”
Person celebrating: “You got…a…boyfriend?”
Me: “No…”(before he could get too excited) “I have a baby.”
Person celebrating: “NO!!!! WAY!!! YOU!!! GOT!!! A!!!! BABY!!!!” You are way too f***ng hot… to have…a baby.”
Me: “Yep…I have a 3-month-old. She is at home.”
Person celebrating: “Wow (staring at my boobs)…you are amaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaazing.”
Me: “Thank you.” (While thinking…if only I could find a sober, respectable man that thought that, Ellie and I would be all set).
And as I continued toward my apartment…for a brief moment I felt remotely good about my body.
Then god humbled me – and the drunk man – by making him trip and fall in the middle of the sidewalk…reminding me he probably could not see me very clearly – and reminding him to put down the beer.
It’s all good…Ellie enjoyed the holiday without any beer.
I know all of you are relieved to know that I have become my inventive self and figured out a solution to my appearance woes…
I just don’t look in the mirror.
At first it was an accident…I would be at work for a few hours and realize, “Huh, I never once looked in the mirror today…not even before I left the house because I was too busy making sure I had the 300 pound breast pump bag with me.”
And I soon began to realize there was an inverse relationship between how little I looked in the mirror and how good I felt about myself.
And it certainly isn’t worth it when I have Ellie with me. Everyone is just looking at her anyway.
Here is why:
See…she is extra cute…and you don’t even notice my ugly nursing bra peeking out of my shirt.