Sort of like the day before my beta, I am feeling pretty zen today about tomorrow's ultrasound. This could be because I was up until 12:30 last night (a full 3 hours past my bedtime, thankyouverymuch), or maybe because I'm excited to see the fabulous Ms. Britney Spears in concert tonight. I hope it will be train wreck-alicious. It seemed like a good idea at the time when my friend bought the tickets six months ago.....
I did have one extremely annoying work interaction today. One of the lawyers in my office is unexpectedly expecting identical twins. I hadn't seen her in a while, and asked how she was feeling. I got a 10-minute diatribe on how pregnancy is "awful," how "people should really know that twins can happen and it's such a curse," and how no one in the family (including her 2-year-old daughter) is happy about the pregnancy. Seriously? Not even a little bit happy? No one?
I know I can't understand her circumstances -- obviously, having never been accidentally pregnant myself -- so I'm trying to reserve judgement. But it will be pretty funny if it turns out tomorrow that I'm having twins (not likely, but still within the realm of possibility). Do I get to tell her how mother-effing happy I am about it?!? For 10 minutes?!?
Now on to the feet. I've had several lovely comments about my toes in recent blog posts. Thank you. As someone who grew up with a stepmother who regularly told her how ugly her feet were, it's nice to now have feet that I can take a picture of and post for all of the world wide web to see.
But, I have a confession. I do not paint my toes myself. I spend an ungodly amount of money on pedicures -- they're even factored into my monthly budget. And I don't just get a regular old pedicure -- I get the super spa pedicure with the sea salt scrub, paraffin wax, and extra leg massage. My big concession to the tanking economy has been to stretch my pedis to every 3 weeks (instead of every two).
The Mr. thinks I'm ridiculous, and he's probably right. I try to justify that I work really long hours, that I deserve a bit of relaxation in the midst of all of the infertility crap, that I'm supporting the economy and am a good tipper, and that it's good for my feet (probably the lamest justification ever). But it's my little ritual and I love it.
I blame my stepmother. And have her take me for a pedicure whenever I'm in town.