So I have this thing called pregnancy. It is not really a sought after experience unless you are a glutton for punishment. I figure it is a means to an end. I am starting to get excited about the new kid on the block coming, at least it will add to the adventure, ahem massacre, we have everyday. I have done this baby shit so many times, with my own kids and babysitting kids I have it under control- I am not worried. It is just the getting there part...
I am about halfway through, I had to graduate to maternity pants which is about the most unflattering pile of shit clothes you can find. Even the yoga pants make you look like shit. Well they make ME look like shit because I carry a Kardashian behind me so the pants have to be baggy and unflattering so I don't appear to be birthing a sausage out of a mountain on each cheek. If you live near me, you're welcome. Anyway I have lost what I consider my best asset, my stomach. Not that is was a chisseled piece of art but it was probably one of the better things going on around here. So with the fat ass and the monstrous belly- that everyone asks if I am having twins because it is an effing mountain right in front, I have been feeling like the fat girl that gets stood up at prom. I don't like that feeling.
Now the other day this pregnancy has started bearing another great gift. Swelling. My hands, my face, my feet. Since I can't bear to give up my Diet Coke- I mean I have cut down, but giving it up completely, yeah that shit is not happeneing, I am retaining water. I told the hubs since everything else looks like shit, I am getting my nails done. Some big-ass fake tappy nails, so when the kids do annoying shit I can just stand next to them and tap my big fake-ass nails and annoy them right back. Mature. I know- but sometimes you have to stoop to their level to get the point across without loosing your voice or smacking them on the head.
Anyway, I went to this place to get my nails done (because a fat girl needs to do what she needs to do to feel good about herself). A french manicure, that will turn yellow in 5 days because cleaners and white don't mix. I am in there and they are chatting away in their native tongue, like I don't exist, and this guy is filing my nails with this rotary tool- or whatever the hell it is. He seems to like my cuticles and also to glue the tip to my actual finger. I am wondering if this mofo is blind or doesn't care, probably both. So I get done, they look great so I give him a decent tip and go on about my business.
I get home and start to do the dishes and my hands feel like I stuck them in the fryer at McDonald's. They are seriously burning and searing in pain. So I stop what I am doing and start picking up toys, but my damn hands are hurting every time I grab something. What the Hell?!?
A few hours later I start to investigate my nails, there are 7 cuts on my fingers from that damn rotary tool. I only have 10 fingers, 7 out of 10 is a pretty shitty average. I mean in school that is a 30%, you have to work hard to be that stupid. And there is a ridge of extra nail crap coming from my cuticle because he was trying to be efficient? Yeah right, he was being lazy.
So how do I handle this? Should I just ignore it and go to a different place next time? Just deal with the weird edges at the cuticles. Should I go up there and talk to them? I wonder if this guy speaks English at all- he didn't say a word to me and when I told him things he didn't listen. Maybe I should use the old Google Translate and try to address it in their native tongue... Maybe that would be too much, I do want to walk away with all my fingers still attached. Hmmm...