Here's a present to remind you that you're gross.

Friday afternoon I was sitting at the computer when there was a knock at my door. I answered it, and saw flowers. Lovely pink flowers. Wearing a tutu.

Beautiful flowers with tutu.*
Now, CONTEXT: this past Friday was February 24. Previously, occasionally, Husband has chosen to send me  flowers or do very special things on days that are close to but not exactly Valentine's Day. Because we don't really "do" Valentine's Day. Because Big Greeting Card. Also, because instead, what we "do" is have 4 kids. Plus lately, I have been spending every free moment in my life lately editing Husband's recently completed first novel. So I look at Flower Lady, and I think YES. Dang it, that's right. I deserve some freakin flowers. Smooth move, Husband.

So I was happy. Sure. It was sweet. I was being celebrated for the beautiful and amazing wife I was. Then the delivery woman opened her big dumb mouth. 

"Looks like someone just had a baaaaaby!" She exclaimed excitedly while she thrust the flowers at me.

Um, sidebar moment. Damn. No. I have not in fact just had a baby. I haven't done Have A Baby in over 3 years. She is confused. These flowers belong to someone else. Or maybe I look... what? But I'm certainly not above self reflection, so in that brief moment,  I took stock.

Giving birth. Earning flowers. 2017 style.
Yes, obviously, I have 20 pounds I'd love to lose. But I'm also pretty sure that this florist doesn't go into every slightly overweight woman's home and suggest that she's just given birth, because that really doesn't feel like a sustainable business model. That feels like, "no thanks for the flowers, my fat butt was just fine without the gifts and insults, thanks so much".

Anyway, back to reflection. I need to lose weight. And, okay sure, also, I'm wearing velour* sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. Even though it's 1pm. On a week day. But I have an excuse for that, and that it's because my work appointments were all cancelled, and again, I've been spending all of my extra time editing my husband's novel. I've been working super hard. ...On the couch. And yeeees my hair is greasy and in a messy, tangled bun on top of my head, and sure I could really use a shower but... oh forget it. Fine. I look exactly like a person who just gave birth. Congratulations, Flower Lady. You win.

So I explained to the friendly flower lady that this was just how I looked, and then she very suddenly remembered that I wasn't getting flowers because I had given birth, but because we'd adopted. Not sure if flower lady knew the kid we adopted was six. Not sure if flower lady knew the kid moved in with us a year and a half ago. But let's just go ahead and ignore that stuff, because sometimes a thirty something year old homeschooling mom of 4 who has multiple jobs and a husband who needs help with his book and company coming over this weekend needs a break. Needs like, just a little grace.
The beautiful little excuses for my
horrifying appearance.

So forget it. Yes, flower lady. I did just have a baby. Or whatever. Please don't let me horrifying appearance send you home with nightmares about garbage people who don't practice proper grooming habits. 

Because those people don't exist.

I promise.

Hey also? Husband didn't buy me flowers. Which was fine before, but now, kind of feels like an insult. Forget you, Bro. How dare you let someone else send flowers to this house so that I think they're from you except they're not. That's bologna. You owe me presents.

* The flowers turned out to be from Tulare Community Church, and they are awesome. The flowers were arranged and delivered by Sweet Memories in Visalia, CA, also awesome. Just so we're clear, it is no one else's fault that I am a garbage person.

**So... did you know how to spell velour? Because "velour" was definitely not my first guess.

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