Working in a grocery store is a prime people-watching opportunity. One of the most fascinating subjects has to be the mother of small children. There's so much variety there, and so many delicious ways for me to judge them, usually.
There's the mom who ignores her kids as they run all over the store touching things and climbing on my counter while I'm trying to bag. There's the mom who thinks her kid can do no wrong and completely ignores me so she can fuss over her little angel as I try to ask questions necessary to complete her grocery transaction. There's the mom who comes in with three dirty, maniac little kids and another on the way and pays for her organic junk food with food stamps. I want to punch that mom in the stomach and ask the government to give me a little of the money I just saved them. Seriously, I totally get falling on hard times, but that is when it's time to stop reproducing, Fertile Myrtle.
Then there are the moms who put all the other moms to shame. They have a couple kids in tow, but the kids are well-behaved, helpful, and quiet. On top of that, the kids are clean and dressed neatly AND the mom looks hot. How does that even happen? Every time I see a woman like this, I want to reach across the counter and heartily shake her hand. How does one manage to raise decent kids, clean them, dress them, and then make herself look not just presentable but enviably good-looking? I can barely even manage to get my eyeliner on straight before I leave the house, and all I have is an Andy to take care of (and he is actually completely self-sufficient - he only pretends to need me so I can have some self-esteem, because he's good like that).
On the subject of women with babies, I would really appreciate not having any more dreams about being pregnant. They are scary and unpleasant. Last night I had a very long, hilariously horrific dream about being pregnant. In the beginning, I had just realized I was pregnant and was apparently toying with the idea of getting the ol' coat hanger special so I didn't tell anyone about it. Then, all of a sudden, my belly just exploded in size and I became quite obviously pregnant but I kept going around in giant sweatshirts trying to hide it because I still wasn't sure if I was going to keep it. Then my alarm went off and I woke up with the WORST gas.
Congratulations, it's a fart.
I firmly hold the belief that there are people in this world who should just be neutered. For their sake, for the sake of their child, for the sake of humanity.
ReplyDeleteAlso, it's too bad giving birth doesn't feel as good as ripping a big fart does.