Today I’m supposed to take my son to the Detroit Zoo for his end of the year, kindergarten field trip. I’m excited. I’ve always enjoyed going to the zoo. Except, I was reminded that we don’t have elephants anymore. I loved the elephants. Oh and I won’t be visiting the gorillas, they have gross me out ever since I was on a field trip with my Brownie troop in early elementary and saw them puking and eating it. That didn’t make for a lifetime of loving them. I actually dry heave at the memory.
It’s going to be almost 90 degrees today. That is fricking hot.
I have nothing to wear.
I watched my daughter have a temper tantrum this morning because she couldn’t find, out of all her drawers of cute clothes, anything to wear. I’m looking at her and I’m yelling evil things because it’s early, I woke up to her pissiness and I’m amazed and horrified at her behavior. But really? I’m thinking and feeling exactly what she is carrying on about.
I have nothing to wear. Let alone to wear to the zoo.
I have gotten so big that my arms are the size of a thigh. A FAT thigh.
I’m mortified. I’m uncomfortable. And I want to have a temper tantrum and cry and scream.
I feel betrayed by my thyroid. I mean, it’s part of my body so how could it have not known to not mess with my weight? Make my feet grow larger. Thin my hair out a bit. But to keep packing on the pounds to the point that I am embarrassed to leave my house?
I just want to lay in my bed and sob and kick my feet and scream.
But instead, I have to put on a short sleeve shirt that my thigh arms hang from because, well, it’s WAY too hot to wear long sleeves. And a pair of capris with my calves swollen to the size of an elephant trunk. And I have to take my son to the zoo with the rest of the class and their skinny moms.
I’m going to be self conscious and insecure the whole time.
I love the zoo. I hate feeling like I’m going to be mistaken for an elephant that was left behind.