(But I'm choosing not to dwell on that.)
I am more or less as pregnant as it is possible to be, and yet this afternoon I found myself purchasing a large bottle of vodka at the local Centennial. Not that the man helping me had any idea I was pregnant (I was wearing a sweatshirt), but, just saying, the irony wasn't lost on me.
(And, no. I'm not 100% sure "irony" is the right word given the situation. My brain isn't firing on all cylinders anymore, which is pretty dangerous considering that I've actually more or less convinced myself in the last twenty four hours or so the only thing ironic is the word "ironic" because nothing is actually ironic if you really get down to it. Which everyone knows is false, because - duh - 9th grade English! So, all this irony talk should actually be filed under "pregnant women are dangerous and completely irrational". But at least I know that on some sort of conscious level. Even if I make no effort to change it or otherwise hide the fact that pregnancy has made me a moron.)
Anyway, the fruits of my labor:
Yes, that's right. I bought me some "Mama Pull Over". I'm classy that way.
I thought I was hysterical even if the the clerk behind the counter seemed a little unnerved by the solo, giggling, fat girl in front of him buying cheap, Russian potato vodka.
And in case anyone is unnerved by the idea of a pregnant lady buying vodka, let me put your mind at ease: It wasn't for me. I've owed a coworker vodka for about six months now. Long story that I actually can't remember anymore. But it involved him catching something I had missed and more or less saving my a$$. As payment, he asked for vodka for Christmas. Debt settled.