Do You Want Fries With That Hamburger?

Yesterday, Mike and I had our second 4D ultrasound done. This one went much better than last time, but Farrah is still so stubborn. We did get to see more of her face, though. It was pretty neat. She would open and close her mouth and stick out her tongue. She is a thumb sucker! I immediately had Dr. Shields' (Jen's boss who is an Orthodontist) name go through my head. Hopefully, that won't become a problem in the future. She likes to keep her hand up to her ear. She'll be one of those cute little babies that sucks her thumb on one hand and pulls her ear with the other hand. Cute. However, after talking to Jen, we figured it's quite likely that the ultrasound is super loud in there and she's just covering her ears. She presses one ear against the wall of my insides and covers her other ear with her hand because it annoys her. Good girl. Protect yourself. After a long wait of trying to get her to turn around so we could get a full headshot, we managed to get this:





She is definitely a Moody and a Lund. I love it! That is no ordinary bird. She didn't happen to relax in that position. She had something to tell us and she did. We laughed so hard at the way our appointment wrapped up. It made sense.

During the whole time we were there, I was soooooooo uncomfortable. I drank some lemonade to try to stir her up. She usually starts bouncing around when I have something sour like that. On the other hand, it gave me an awful stomach ache. Plus, my insides are a bit backed up. I know I can't stop talking about it, but it's uncomfortable and I feel like complaining about it. So, I wanted to die through the whole thing because the ultrasound tool was being pushed against the areas that were hurting me. I could hardly wait until it was over. It got to the point where I could've cared less if she showed us her face or not. Just show me a bathroom!

I did miss out on some of the little comments our technician said at our previous appointment, though. At our last 4D, he made comments that made Mike and I laugh and then wonder about later. Don't get me wrong we really like DJ. He's a great technician who is very enthusiastic and loves his work. He is, however, just a dude. He doesn't have a soothing bedside mannerism that you picture when getting photos of your first born. He's kinda...what's the word...filthy. Instead of saying, "okay Farrah, show us your parts so we can confirm you're a little girl" he says, "okay Farrah, show us your hamburger." What? Did he say hamburger? Why, yes, he did. Every time the word "hamburger" escaped his mouth, the word "ewwwww" came to mind. Mike and I laughed about how maybe this next time he'd refer to it as her "taco" or her "pie slice". Anything disgusting and inappropriate we would come up with. Sorry if that offends any of you (especially family) but I'm just sharing honest conversations and experiences. He would refer to our unborn child as if she were a Penthouse model. I know he didn't mean anything by it, but again, ewwww. However, yesterday, he didn't make one icky comment. Not a one! We were almost looking forward to the next creative way he would refer to our daughters reproductive organs. He has two sons (13 & 18) which can explain a lot. However, he just had a daughter born two months ago and I wonder if he started creeping himself out with how he was referring to female body parts. He has a little girl now and it's probably not as amusing to him anymore. The thing that sucks is hamburger will forever come to mind now. When Farrah is old enough to form sentences and is taking a bath one day and asks what the hell is in between her legs, do I say, "hamburger?" Probably not, but I know it will pop in my brain and I might just start laughing, making her think that there's something wrong with her. Hopefully it won't come to that.

I'll tell you what, I'll probably never order another hamburger again without thinking of vagina which pretty much makes me lose my appetite. Thanks, DJ!

Telephone Etiquette

I have been given the task by a co-worker to bitch about telephone etiquette. We had a conversation about how people can suddenly become retards or ass holes when a telephone receiver is put anywhere near their ear and mouth. When I arrive at work in the morning, one of the first things I have to do is check the phone for any messages. Why, why is it that people feel the need to suddenly become speed talkers when they leave a message? I honestly only want to hear their message one time. That's it! However, these message-leavers find it necessary to quickly say their name, leave a slow and very long pointless message that almost always takes up a good minute or two to sit there and listen to before you come to the glorious moment that they finally leave their number. Suddenly, the person on the other end of the phone becomes severely drunk, slurring their words in panic/speed mode. They rattle off their number as if they just noticed someone getting ready to jump off a bridge and they need to quickly get off the phone and rescue them. The shitty thing about this is with the phone system that I have at work, I actually have to go through the torment of hearing that person's life story from the beginning until I try to make out the phone number again. Mind you, if it's bad enough, I could ultimately end up hearing that message 3 or 4 times before I finally make out the prefix. The stupid thing about these people leaving their ridiculously long messages, is that they will have to repeat themselves as soon as one of us calls them back anyway. Short and to the point is how I like to leave and receive messages.

It really irritates me when someone leaves those long winded messages and quickly leaves their number, when it is someone who works on phones all day. I work in real estate and therefore talk to people in escrow and title all the time. They pretty much have a phone attached to their face up until it is time to go home for the day. So, why is it that they of all people don't know simple phone etiquette? A lot of escrow and title people I talk to will leave their message and race through the number. They should know better. They should hate this as much as I do and know not to do it to others. Maybe it's their little payback to those that do it to them. I don't know.

It's also a treat to get people who call in on the other line who hate life. Haters. These brave souls choose to pick up the phone and decide to be a bully with you without even knowing why they're mad. When those people call they can always hear me chuckling on the other end and I know it just pisses them off even more than they originally were. I can't help but laugh at these idiots. Don't they know they won't get anywhere with that tone or attitude? I also like to take long pauses after they've said something so awful and retarded that it has to echo back into their ears for them to hear what they just said and feel like an ass hole. It also shows that I'm not going to react to their bad behavior. It's funny getting to see those same people in person later. I always ask myself how I think that conversation would have gone had it been in person.

Most of the people I know, know how to behave on the phone. However, if anyone would like to brush up on their skills, here are some little reminders:

1. Smile when you're on the phone. Everyone can hear a smile.
2. When leaving a message, speak clearly and slowly. Don't leave a long message. Short and sweet.
3. Be nice and friendly because you never know if the person on the other end of the phone has a screw loose and plans to kill you and your family as soon as they get off the phone with you.

H2-Oh my GOD!

Today I drank massive amounts of water. So much water, so many trips to the bathroom. I've felt like I haven't been getting very much, if not enough lately. It may have been a little excessive. I drank one 12oz glass of water after another starting at around 2pm and ending at 5pm. At no time did I have to barf it up, though. For some reason, I tend to feel dehydrated at 9pm and so I drink a massive amount of water and then I get up at least 5 times in the middle of the night leaving me unrested. I'm hoping that my little daytime water drinking experiment will allow me to have a normal night's sleep.

On another not-so-wonderful note, I experienced my first cramp. Not a shit cramp, but a left hip cramp. Oh my god it was sooooooo horr-i-ble!!! I was busy emptying the dishwasher and I got this uncomfortable pain in my left lower abdominal/hip area. It was hard to stand and the pain started to shoot from my hip straight into my back. I whined about it to Mike and as soon as he told me to go sit down and get off my feet, the pain started to ease up. I went back to doing the dishes and it came on again. Ooooooh, not good. I quietly whined to Mike again. He was in another room and told me again to sit down. I sat down and it started to go away. I figured it must be some kind of ligament pain because I've been having symptoms of growing again. Nope! It started again, and this time it was like I had a 45 pound weight digging into my left hip. Now I was crying out for Mike because I was scared. He came rushing in and asking where it hurt. I was almost in tears. Of course, he started making jokes that the pain must be stemming from the stupid pony tail I was wearing. All I could do was let out little weak laughs. At least I was laughing. Mike helped me put the recliner up and started massaging my hip. It felt sooooooo much better. My hero. Down to the hot tub I went. I realized it was just a cramp. Just a cramp. Hmm. I haven't had a cramp that made me cry since I was 16 years old. Which brought both Mike and I to an uncomfortable realization. If I thought that was bad, what the hell do I think a contraction or child birth is going to be like? When I told him, "Oh my god, can you even imagine what kind of a pussy I'm going to be?!!!" he shared that the same exact thought was going through his head and we both started laughing. The bad news, apparently that won't be the last time I have one of those unpleasant cramps. The good news, at least with contractions and child birth comes lots and lots of endorphins and drugs (as well as a happy ending).

Stupid water. I thought it was supposed to help with cramps. Off to bed I go and will try my best to stay in bed and avoid the bathroom.

Release the Hounds!

I'm going to discuss another topic of embarrassment and good humor. Remember, there is a disclosure warning of offensive topics from time to time. Well, here goes. Part of the joy of pregnancy comes prenatal vitamins, the movement of one's guts, and never enough water. With that combination comes the inability to poo. Yes, I said poo. C'mon. Don't act like you haven't struggled with something like this before. I am one, however, that refuses to "push" the possibility of getting hemorrhoids. I don't want them and don't want to ever see one. Ever. I would prefer keeping things the way they are. I really am not interested in having to invest in ointments, creams, or cooling pads. I don't believe those things belong down there. One thing I could do, of course, is take Metamucil once a day to keep things running smooth (he he he). The problem with Metamucil is it produces excess gas. Now, who wants that? Sometimes it would be fun, but with my guts all pushed around it tends to be painful and not so funny. So, that is out of the question. I don't have enough room in there for air. What is my laxative of choice? Coffee. Good old fashion coffee. A coffee enema. Sometimes something as simple as smelling coffee will get the cramping started. It's never enough, though. I have to have a latte to get things brewing (get it?). It does suck. I've been trying to wean myself off of the caffeine so that my daughter doesn't come out with the jitters. Pretty much the only time anyone will see me with a coffee in my hand is when I am backed up. Now that I've put that down, now you will all know what is going on with my bowels if I have a coffee. All it usually takes is half a cup and I'm struggling to stand and walk to the bathroom without wincing in pain and discomfort. However, it is something I can always count on. I'd prefer to go about it a different way, but I can always time my day around it and know that I won't be required to get up at an off time to "take care of business". It's almost instant gratification. You can't beat that. Kathy + Coffee = Poop. Awesome.

Bonding

Okay, this one is probably going to be a bit sappy, but what can I say? Farrah's senses are much more in tune now. She can hear and see light. This is what the books and websites say. Another thing that I have discovered is her ability to notice me poking at her. On several different occasions she has started kicking and I will massage in that area and seconds later she'll massage back. When she does this, it makes me feel very close to her. It has taken some time to adjust to the fact that there's a baby in me, not to mention that she is mine (and Mike's). It has taken me a while to feel close to her because it's been so hard to believe that this is actually happening. I feel like I'm just playing dress up and pretending to bring another human being in the world. However, for some reason feeling how big she is and sensing that she is responding to me, brings me closer to her. A part of me gets sad when I think of the fact that it's all going to be over soon. Soon everyone will get to experience being with her and it will no longer be just me and Farrah. For some reason, the first thing that comes to mind is a kitten when she squirms around. I don't know why. I guess it's because kittens are so snuggly and squirmy. Weird, I know. Anyway, I wanted to be sure to jot that down so that one day I will be able to share it with her.

Charmin Softness

My back has been hurting lately. The chair I sit in at work is a piece of shit joke of a chair. I think it was taken from the side of the road with a sign that said "Free!" on it. When sitting in a chair, you are usually at a 90-100 degree angle. No, in this chair I'm going to guess I sit at a 150-160 degree angle. I'm practically lying down, but have to type and answer phones at the same time. When I get home, my back hurts so much, I can't get comfortable and I feel like I probably come across as a bitch. Honestly, I can't help it. I go and sit on the couch to have a conversation with Mike and I get super squirmy. This is because not only does my back hurt, but by the end of the day, so does my ass. My tail bone and butt cheeks throb by the time I get home. This makes me nervous because I still have 3+ months to go in this race. My boss told me to go ahead and order a new chair because he knew how bad it was, but I don't know what would actually be comfortable. How can I predict what will work for me 2 months from now when I will be completely huge? In the meantime, I brought a pillow from home to put me at a 130 degree angle instead. It's a little better. Now, I need to find a foam pad or something of the sort to put under my ass. As I type this, I feel like I'm sitting on bricks. It also makes my knees hurt. Oh my god I am a complaining fool right now. Embarrassing. Anyway, I need to find some creative ways to get comfortable aside from becoming a live version of one of those old 80s Charmin commercials by arriving at work with 100 rolls of toilet paper stuffed down my pants to cushion my caboose and back. However, had my boss not suggested getting a new chair, I probably would've shown up in the toilet paper suit just to prove a point.

Button

I was looking at my belly button last night and noticed that it's starting to look like a cat's butthole. A cat's butthole without all the cat shit in it, though. Maybe for Halloween, if it continues to hold its shape, I will wear a half shirt, put some crusty brown stuff in it, put a ton of faux fur around it with two dangly legs and tail sticking up (can't forget the little pieces of kitty litter around the anus and at the paws). I will go as a cat's ass. Why not? It's not like I'd go to a party where someone else has the same costume. I think it's original.

Bib

I have been mimicking my grandmother lately. Every time my grandma eats something, it finds its way on her shirt. Well, what normally would land on my lap, my belly has been kind enough to catch. Spaghetti sauce, a piece of chocolate, toner from the copy machine. I, of course don't see it. It is usually pointed out to me by other people who have a much better view than I do. Yesterday at the gym I kept getting water spots on my belly because I'd rest my water bottle against it and the condensation would leave behind its mark. It looked like my belly button was leaking.

I can now cross my arms and rest them on the top of my stomach. I'm not quite to the point where I can rest a cup of coffee on it yet. I'm looking forward to that little convenient trick. No need for TV trays! I'll just pile it all up on my own that mother nature made me. Should be fun.

I've noticed veins. Lots of veins. On the sides of my belly there are bluish tinged road maps. They're very confusing to read and hard to make out where they lead. Clothes are getting tighter and tighter. I know I need to get out there and start shopping, but quite honestly it is so hard for me to justify it. I HATE to spend money on things that I won't be able to wear for the next 3-4 years. Most importantly, I have no intension to be able to wear those larger clothes for more than 6-7 months after Farrah arrives. In fact, I know it sounds crazy to some, but I want to do a figure competition. Prior to getting pregnant, I was working my ass off to do a fitness competition. I was pretty much in the best shape of my life because I put a goal out there in front of me. I feel if I put another goal out there it will help in getting back to the old me. Besides, I LOVE going to the gym and having something to work towards. Mike said he will be training me for 3 months after Farrah is born and once I'm able to get back into the gym full force. I've already been asked by a couple who put on bodybuilding shows to participate in August to do figure and fitness. I think I'm going to try. What can it hurt?

When I go to the gym now, I keep it in the back of my mind so I have something to look forward to (other than my daughter, obviously). It helps motivate me to get in the gym even when I don't really feel like it. We'll see if I actually go through with it, but I don't think it's a bad thing to work towards.

What's Happening?!!!

New things are happening to my body. Are they pregnancy related? I'd say so. Heartburn. Oooh, heartburn. It's pretty unpleasant, but is to be expected when you have someone about a pound in weight using your stomach and intestines as a rocking chair and ottoman. Several blogs ago I wrote about how I have to burp a lot. I have to sit up and help the little bubble find it's way out of my mouth. Now when I do that, I get a little surprise at the end. Up-chuck. Yes, I throw up in my mouth a little and send it back down where it came from. It leaves that nice burning sensation in the back of my throat. Luckily, it doesn't have that taste that bile usually leaves behind. It's quite gross, but definitely a treat I can hardly wait to share with my daughter.

My next body changing experience is one that I'm putting out there to completely humiliate myself with. I had said in my profile, "Let's hope for something gross and funny" but I left out embarrassing. Let's be honest, if you can't laugh at yourself, can you truly laugh at others? I know I can, but I'll still share it. For the past few days I've been fighting off a cold. I try to look at it more like a combination of cold and allergies so that I'm not totally convinced that I'm sick. With the cold portion of my ailment has come a cough. It's rather annoying and I feel like I have to clear my throat every 2 minutes. Well, when one coughs, there is usually some strong bodily force. Now, when pregnant you build up extra gases in your body. (Can you see where this is going?) Yesterday and today I have experienced the joy of being forced to fart when it is not appropriate due to my cold. Not outside, not in the bathroom, and not in the privacy of my home. It's not at a time when it would be particularly funny like when sitting with your husband and talking about important topics and pushing one out there just to lighten up the atmosphere. No. These uncontrollable bursts would make their presence known while I would sit at my desk. One big cough followed by a pop out of my butt. Each time it happened (mind you it only happened 3-4 times) I would look around the room to see if anyone had a weird look on their face as if to say, "KATHY! Use the bathroom!" or see if any of them had a smirk and were ready to explode in laughter. No one knew! Joy! Oh, I am so lucky that my loud cough muffles my other bodily noises. Now when you read this, you can't sit there and think to yourself, "I can't believe she did that." because you know as well as I do, you've all done it. You've probably even been caught! Everyone has experienced at some time or another a moment when you have to relieve yourself from a very unpleasant stomach ache by letting some excess air out of your ass at a time you'd rather not. We've all done it, because we all have digestive systems and buttholes. It's just not that often that it is a topic of discussion. But isn't it a funny topic of discussion? Farts are funny, admit it. (Poop is too).

Anonymous

I have received a few comments from some readers in the past but they won't actually leave their name. Why? I would love to know who the mysterious people are out there that have read it and like to comment so that I know who to thank. Otherwise, I just get scared that someone is stalking me via the world wide web. If any of you wonderful faithful readers out there would like to make comments to my blogs whether it be negative (because sometimes I deserve I swift put down) or friendly, please at least let me know who you are. It makes it more fun.

Thanks! : )

Love Thy Neighbor (when they're sober)

Soooo, I have a neighbor who lives across the street from me. She is a great lady when I need her help with Titan when Mike and I leave town. She's helpful in letting us steal an egg or borrow a cup of sugar. She's always friendly and eager to say hello when I pull into my driveway after a long day at work. She's all these things...when she's sober. On the other hand, when she has had a few of her Coronas with lime, it's a completely different story. She has, what my mother likes to call, diarrhea mouth. Why diarrhea? Because everything that comes out of her mouth is shit. Constant flowing foul shit. She has an ugly opinion of everyone and everything in the neighborhood. She is also a shit starter. She loves to take things that people have said, twist them a bit, tell it to other neighbors, and make you look like an asshole. The first week of moving into Gleneagle, she came up to me with a bottle in one hand and a cigarette in the other to quickly give me the low down on the other neighbors. She wanted to make sure I really hated everyone before I got all settled in. "That house over there, he beats the shit out of his wife and they're in the middle of a nasty divorce. He trashed the house. You should see it!" "Those people next to you have teenage kids who party all the time and you'll hate them for sure. They're punks." "That neighbor, her name is Delores but I prefer to call her clitoris. Get it?" That was my introduction to the drunk across the street. I really hope she never sees this but she won't even know it's her because one of the main signs of alcoholism is denial.

When I decide to engage her in conversation, particularly about anything that is remotely dramatic (which it almost never is...I know better) she likes to try to make what I'm talking about bigger than it really is. She tries to take what I'm saying as if I'm talking shit about people, which I'm not. I have to remind her that when I'm talking to her about certain things, it's not necessarily to bash anyone or anything and I have no idea how she's twisted it into being that. Yesterday, was almost a day that I told her to go f**k herself. I was sharing with another neighbor about my pregnancy and how my and Mike's summer has been. Drunk neighbor was there, too. In the conversation, I happened to mention Farrah's name and the look on the drunk's face was awful. She had nothing nice to say about it and the look she received back from my face was enough to get her to shut the hell up. She had asked me if I named her after Farrah Faucet. No, I didn't. Why in the hell would I name her after someone I don't even know? Did I name her after Farrah Jeans? What the F**k are those?! She had something ugly to say about almost everything I was talking about. Her tone just sucked. However, the moment she started dogging my girl's name or anything about any of my stepkids, she knew by the tone in my voice and the look in my eyes it was time for her to grab her beer and cigarette and leave.

At what point will I learn to not even speak to her when I see the beer in her hand? She has a tendency to practically ruin everything when she has alcohol in her system. It simply pisses me off. I really care about her and enjoy her...sober. However, every time she's drunk I think I could kill her. Not to mention her perverted husband. Here are a couple of examples of their obnoxious behavior:

1). Rehearsal Dinner Night for my and Mike's wedding. We had family and some friends, but mainly those who were in the wedding. We had finished dinner and all sat down together having desert and drinking wine and beer. Who should walk in, but my lovely neighbors across the street. Already hammered, of course, but looking for more booze. The husband walked in and told me (not asked) to poor him a glass of wine. I didn't want to make a scene and tell him to leave because we were still fairly new to the neighborhood, but everyone was looking at each other asking themselves "who the hell is this guy?" He gulped down his wine, made an ass of himself, and finally got the hint to leave. Nice.

2). Another party. More likely than not, a birthday party for a family member. Oh yes, I believe it was for Donna's 40th. I had a large bottle of Jack Daniels on my table and beer in the cooler. Of course, she takes the beer but he walked over to my Jack Daniels and poured a full 8oz into his glass, said thank you, mingled for about 5 minutes and left. Oh my god. I though I was going to kill him. That was my JD!

3). Yet another gathering at our house, but it was an excuse to hook up a friend with one of the neighbor girls. It was about 2 in the morning. Both drunks saw cars in our driveway and decided to walk into our house. While talking to us about vulgar shit, she decided to scratch herself "in" her pants and then touched our friend on the shoulder. I thought for sure everyone in the room was going to barf. The drunk husband at one point started touching the neighbor girl's leg in a not-so-comfortable way. The drunk wife was also telling our friend how big of a slut the neighbor girl was (not that it would've bothered him), but that's her talking shit again. Oh, yeah, they were drinking my booze...again! I had to pretend to kick everyone out so I could go to bed as a means to make those two leave.

I think on their own they have started to learn not to come over uninvited anymore. We have had a couple of ragers this summer and neither one has walked in, yet. Thank god. I've almost got to the point to be the ugly neighbor (or I suppose it would be the hero neighbor) and tell them what they can do with themselves. It is very hard to hate someone who is a completely different person when they drink than from when they're sober. It sucks. I know sober, they mean well. However, drunk...they really want to make the people around them miserable. I'm learning to keep my distance little by little everyday with them. Mike and I can't wait until the day we get out of there. We hope to buy perhaps 5 acres of land and build right in the middle of it so we have no nearby neighbors. I love having neighbors sometimes, but not drunkies. 5 acres gives enough space so that if a drunk neighbor wants to come by, they will have passed out in the back yard before reaching our front door. Fine by me.

Because I Refuse to Cut It Off

I had my hair done yesterday. I chose to go back to my fun blonde look. Yes, I loved the dark hair, however, it was starting to look flat and weak. It was depressing me a bit. It is now at that in between dark brown and blonde stage right now. It's not quite "I've been at the beach all summer long" blonde, yet. Why the color change? I don't want to chop my hair off for the sake of keeping things easier for me during the pregnancy and later when Farrah arrives. That's what ponytails and braids are for. When I used to have my short hair, it would take me almost 45 minutes just to do my hair. Holy crap, I can't believe I put myself through that. Now it takes 45 minutes to shower, put on make up, get dressed, and do the hair. Amazing. I have girlfriends that swear it is so much easier with the shorter hair, but their hair is much more agreeable than mine. I used to have horrible arguments with my hair when I was growing up. Back in junior high (mind you, this story will make you think that I should be locked away in a padded room) I would battle my hair before trying to catch the school bus. I HATED my hair in junior high. You know that time when we are going through puberty and we get the over production of oil? Well a lot of it would land on my scalp making my hair flat and limp. Boring hair. This is also a time when we actually gave a shit of what people thought of us and we wanted to look good. I would put my hair up in a barrett and quickly tear it out (literally) because it didn't look even. This was usually followed by a severe brushing that would pull out excessive amounts of hair. I would then pull it back in a ponytail and then notice that I had a zit that needed to be covered up by a couple of dangly locks. Well, that screwed up the whole look I was going for. Wearing it down was not always a good option because the weight of the grease on my head. I would literally start my day off in tears. Luckily, no one was ever home to see my freak outs. Talk about temper tantrums. Yikes. There would be so many strands on the floor, on the counter, in the sink, and of course wads in my brush. When it came to my hair in the morning, it was an ugly, ugly battle. So, I decided to chop it off. Oops! That was such a mistake. Now it was too short to pull back even if I wanted to. This, too, is why I now will forever have long hair. The most I will probably ever do is just color it. If it works, I won't mess with it. Also, if it stays in style, I refuse to change it. It's a side of me that needs to be locked away forever and for everyone's sake. I'm sure Mike would quietly leave me if he ever saw my ranting and raving over a hair being out of place.

Ahh, the memories that I have of being a teen frighten me so much when I think of what awful traits I might have passed on to Farrah. We will be raising her with patience right off the bat. I can't guarantee her scalp will hold up like mine did. I didn't have the Moody gene in me that included strength behind the tugs that were to my hair. I can only imagine what people might be thinking when they read this. When I told Mike about it, he had one eye looking at me with such pity and understanding, while the other eye was looking for an escape route in case too much dry air came in contact with my hair and caused a couple of strands to stand straight up. What if I'd run out of hair paste?!! What if I couldn't find my hairspray?! Mike was in the shower and had no way out if I lost it. Luckily, I've matured enough that I won't allow another episode to overcome me like that again. It hasn't in over 15 years. Puberty was unkind to me. I can only hope it will be a bit nicer to Farrah when the time comes.

I'm ebarrassed to have shared this.