Actually, Sometimes Big Girls Do Cry

Wow, it's been a while. The past few days have been pretty busy and I haven't had much time to blog.

On Friday, I jump started my weekend with my annual visit to the gyno. Needless to say, not much to blog about, and definitely not one to file under the label 'Post with Pics'.

While there, I was however, reminded of the last time I visited that dear office, which brings me to the following heart wrenching story.....guaranteed to make you feel sorry for me:

The last time I was in this particular office location was when I was 9 months pregnant. As usual, they ask you to take your personally labeled cup into the restroom and provide them with a liquid gift of sorts. After doing this once a month, and towards the end of my pregnancy once a week, you would have thought I would have been a pro at it. Actually, I thought I was, until....this particular visit.

The nurse gave me my cup and I proceeded to do what I was, at this point, getting so tired of doing. And let's face it, the larger and more pregnant I became, the more difficult the task was. As many of you know, when you're pregnant, you're almost always able to fill up the cup with no problem, as was the case this time. Feeling pretty proud of my skills, I began to bring the cup forward and finish up when the tip of the cup hit the rim of the toilet (or was it my large and in charge stomach?) and fell down my pant leg. Actually, to be honest, they weren't pants, they were big, fat, maternity capris. The entire cup fell over and all the way down my leg. I had to reach my hand down the leg of my capris and pull it out.....empty.

At first I think I just sat there, in shock. How in the world was I going to walk myself out of that bathroom with wet drenched pants?!

I called the nurse to the door and said with a smile, while trying to maintain my composure, "You're never gonna believe what I just did."

The moment I started to tell her the story, I busted out crying. Humiliation had set in. I told her to just reschedule my appointment, that I just wanted to go home. She, of course, tried to make me feel better and told me not to worry about it and gave me some type of big, blue plastic sheet to wrap around me. Very discreet. Oh great! Thanks! No one will ever look at me with this wrapped around my waist. Pshhh.

I decided to just stay and get the appointment over with, but not before balling my eyes out to my doctor in the examining room.

After the appointment, still wet and crying, I got in my car and called Matt to explain what had just happened.
The first thing he did was laugh. The second thing he did was....laugh again. I asked threatened him not to tell a soul (which I later find out he did). He told me it wasn't a big deal and not to worry about it.

As I pulled out of the parking lot, Fergie's "Big Girls Don't Cry" came on the radio. What I wanted to say was, "Actually Fergie, big girls DO cry....Really really big girls cry." But I didn't, I just turned it up, sang my heart out, and pretended I was LC all the way home.