oh the joys of being a woman

First, let me preface this blog with how long it has taken me to come up with a title for it. You'll understand after reading it why all of the following are relevant, but I considered:

• High Heel Obsession
• I'm Just Plain Jane
• I Deserve Dessert Today

The day started out to be a normal one, except that I slept in unknowingly until almost 10:00. That's still really weird for me because that means it was almost noon in Texas. I think my body knew that today was a day to be dreaded. In fact, I believe the entire city of San Diego was grieving for me. Aside from the day's upcoming events [just wait, I'll explain what happened soon], my body was aching with soreness from last night's workout as I tried to drag myself from the comfort of lying motionless on the bed. Dustyn had already been "at work" (I have to say it using quotations because he's technically still in our apartment.) for over two hours, so I quietly sauntered in to the kitchen to fix a bowl of cereal, hoping Dustyn wouldn't comment about how long I'd stayed in bed.

I sat on our sofa and ate my cereal, not even attempting to turn on the TV. We only have an antenna here, with which we only get four channels and three of them provide no sound. Even this boggles Dustyn's mind. I finish the cereal, curl into a ball, and lay on the couch. At which point, Camy pulls herself away from her bed, and approaches me to give me good morning, smelly kisses. She too could sense that today was not a happy day.

I laid on the couch for a little while, letting Camy lay with me and rest her little head on my hip for comfort. I kept watching the minutes tick by on the clock that hung directly across from where I laid. Half past 11, Dustyn asked me to help him make lunch. So I did. Simple sandwich for lunch today. He then allowed himself to take a lunch break and lounged on the couch. At this point, it was nearing noon and my mind started thinking about getting up, showering, and getting ready for the day. I needed to be out of the house by 1:30, at the latest. Instead, I decided to lay down and attempt to drift back into an unconscious state so the day could quickly pass by.

I looked back up at the clock around 12:30 and decided I couldn't prolong the inevitable anymore. I showered, got dressed, and looked up the address to which I needed to drive. I hopped in the car and drove away from the apartment...from this point on, the day felt heavy and sad to me. Want to know where I was going?

If you could put the slight details together because you too dread this day, and you guess the gynecologist, then my friend, you are correct. I know, it sounds disgusting and really makes you want to cross your legs. If it weren't routine and a necessity for making sure our family planning stays in check, I would probably never go. What crazy woman would subjugate herself to that act?

I promise I'm not going into details about the visit. I am, however, happy that I found a place that was nice, quiet, and not overly busy. At my "regular" place in Austin, it was always overcrowded and filled with waaaay too many pregnant women. Even our church was overwhelmed with first pregnancy women. I can't remember who told me this or where I heard it, but just the other day, someone told me that "when you move to suburbia, the yearning to have/start a family kicks in". I guess in retrospect, I can see that as being true; Austin is not quite as fast paced as SD, so in some aspects, I guess this sort of makes Austin the suburbia.

What I will tell you is that I didn't like the appointment because I had to step on a scale. I guess over the last year, I've worked my bum off to be in better shape, more fit, and to feel more comfortable with myself. Today I was forced to realize that my weight started out at one point, went down considerably, and is now on the uphill climb again. Gee, if taken out of context, I could sound like an announcer for the winter Olympics.

Secondly, this new doctor had to go through the regular questioning of "are you planning to start a family soon?" Um...no, not by my choice. She said, "Don't worry, you have plenty of time. You got married young." Nice to hear, so why in the world would my mind start wanting me to ask her, "Um, so...when is my "cutoff" date for starting a family? Should I start planning out the next 5, 10...15 years?" I certainly can't see past this coming Monday (the day I start my job) so I think I got a little frightened by the whole talk of a "family".

Dustyn and I had this whole conversation the other day sort of on the lines of this. We were talking about how years ago, teenage girls were being married off. I can't really remember why we were talking about this, but I know our conversation pertained to maturity. How is it that years ago, 15 year olds were getting married and starting families and today, I'm almost 23 years old and the IDEA of a family scares me...a lot. There's this whole movement in our society to start families at a later age (late 20s, early 30s). Will this be me? I mean, really, only God can tell. Is this what I want? I don't know. I make spur of the moment decisions; I'm not exactly "let's plan out my entire life" lady.

Okay, moving on. I could tell immediately that this appointment had altered my mood. I mean, since Sunday I've been on this "life high" and afterwards, I was kind of down on myself. Wanting to curl into the fetal position kind of thing. I had a few books to return to the local library, so I headed over there. Since I got my membership right when we moved here, I didn't have a bill for proof of address. I took a paper with me today from our apartment complex to hand in while I was there. I went to the front desk and told him I needed to return my books, show the proof of address, and have them fix my name because they carefully typed it in as "MAGAN MARIE BIDSIG". I showed him the paper for the address and he told me they couldn't accept it because it didn't technically have our names on it (all it had was our address, monthly rent amount, parking space number, etc. Geez...what did he want, my social security card...that I don't have?). I almost started crying when he told me this. I don't know why; he didn't say it rudely. I understood. It was a mere matter of the fact that he is a man and does not have to subjugate himself to the brutal yearly visit. I am pretty sure I walked out of there with my sunglasses on to hide the swell of tears in my eyes. Lame.

Lucky for me, to cheer myself up, I had been wise enough to grab a DSW gift card I had been given. I had prepped myself before hand for some much needed alone time (I find myself not really wanting to look at a man whatsoever on these days...I probably glare at men when and if I do see one). What better place to go than a huge shoe store who's having a clearance sale? Mind you, I arrived at the store around 3:25.

I walk into the store, look at the first set of clearance racks strategically placed right at the entrance. I find nothing of interest. I always walk through stores in a certain way. Even in Target, if I'm by myself, I can walk up and down every aisle, just looking. I head over to my right and start on aisle one of the women's side. DSW also carries a lot of purses, and this happened to be where they were placed. I immediately take notice of the "higher end" bags here. In Austin, the "higher end" purses were always brands like Guess, Nine West, etc. Here, they were Jessica Simpson and every other brand name bag that didn't start below $80.

I notice two women, probably in their late thirties (or somewhere in their 40s if they were indecisive life planners like me) with their two daughters. The young girls were somewhere around 10-12 years old. One of the women had obviously allowed herself to become addicted to tanning. Her body was so old and shriveled looking, and the color of her skin didn't have the nice glow of a tan anymore...she just looked orange. Her friend should have told her to stop. I started listening and watching the girls. They would run from stand to stand of these purses and pick them up, squeal over them, and run them to their mothers to ask if they could buy it. This just made me start thinking about how my purse is from Target, cost me less than $20, and how I don't think I've ever owned a purse so expensive. Oh wait, yes I did. For all of two days. I was given birthday money last year, went to the coach outlet mall store, bought a small (and I mean small) bag, took it home, couldn't sleep and happily returned it two days later, unused.

I move on to another aisle, and immediately find a pewter colored pair of shoes that will match perfectly with a dress I got this past weekend. They're cute, comfy, and logical because I have an outfit to match. I carry them around as I make my way up and down every aisle. I start to notice the women that are walking around the store. Every single woman is dressed adorably, every hair in place, and wearing high heels. Granted, I was looking for high heels because I am about to enter the corporate world, but come on... I don't wear them to go shoe shopping. And no, they were not just testing them out for comfort.

I think I literally must have walked around DSW's aisles at least three times. I found a pair of heels I really liked (nope, I put the pewter color back in favor of going with a more classic brown...hence the desired title "I'm just Plain Jane"). If I hadn't walked around for so long and frequented the clearance aisles that second time, I wouldn't have found the same exact pair of shoes I had picked up marked down 40%. It looked like someone probably bought them and decided they didn't want them. No big deal. I'll go buy some shoe inserts.

Before I move on from the shoe store, I have two more things to mention. The second is that I also decided to buy a pair of running shoes. (Dustyn cannot be mad. I got good deals, had a gift card, and am planning to shed those pounds again.)

Second story. In addition to a more expensive bag selection, there was also a section of shoes I found my eyes bulging out over. I am not even familiar with the brands, but the shoes were on sale for over $400. Shouldn't those be under lock and key or something? Anyway, while I was mistakenly in that section, I noticed a man looking intensely at one of the display shoes. I thought, okay, surely he's just with that woman right there. Nope, they weren't together. I kind of hung around the shoe section for a while, and then watched (how stalkerish do I sound) him go to the expensive bag section. He picked up a bag or two and intensely inspected them. What was his deal? I convinced myself that he was picking out one of the three gifts his (absent) girlfriend had asked for, that is, until I saw Guy #2 doing the same intense inspecting of another (cheaper) pair of shoes. I don't know what their deal is. Maybe they're just cross dressers. Or personal shoppers (for Britney Spears).

When I finally left DSW, it was 5:15. I called Dustyn and told him that because I had to go through this awful occurrence..wait, I remembered something else. I told Dustyn tonight that I believe these yearly appointments are an absolute invasion of privacy (no pun intended). They should serve cake and ice cream at the doctor's office to make every woman feel comforted. Okay, back to original paragraph beginning thought. Because I had to go through this awful occurrence, I told Dustyn (before we got married, actually) that every time I have to go, I get taken to dinner.

I headed back to the apartment, picked him up, and headed to the Olive Garden (where were D & L?!) for dinner. At the end of dinner, I informed Dustyn that he was to treat me to the aforementioned comfort food I was in need of. We shared a delightful piece of raspberry cheesecake. Yum!

So, thankfully, today is over and here I am, writing all about it as I sit on our sofa, dressed comfortably and wrapped in a blanket. I hope the blog didn't make you feel uncomfortable in any way. I edited several stories out that really shouldn't be broadcast over the Internet. I'm not sure I would have the courage to tell some of you the stories face to face. They embarrassed Dustyn. :) Have a good night. I think it might be time to curl up with a book now.