A New Low

I have been sick....just for a month...no big deal. I tried an antibiotic...didn't dent it.
Went back....pneumonia.

It's delicious. I love it.

I headed to Walmart with Bradley and Bryce to pick up my prescription de jour...and let's just say I was not looking my finest. Workout clothes that appeared they had been "worked out in"... though stuffed with a body that ruled out that theory. Slicked back (not with water) ponytail....dark circles under my eyes (partly from being sick for 30 days and partly from mascara residue). Dry, peeling nose from being blown too much....greasy forehead from sweating over the simplest of tasks. No jewelry. No makeup (not counting the mascara residue). I looked EXACTLY how I felt.

I quickly picked up my $30 prescription (that I later threw away when I researched and found out it causes your tendons to explode)...and grabbed a few items to keep us alive for the next 48 hours. The boys were starving so I opened up goldfish crackers and fruit roll ups for them to keep them busy...and quiet.

I loaded everything on the belt and endured the dirty look from the cashier as she "beeped" my opened products. I dug through my purse looking for my checkbook....yes, I still use checks...and it was gone. I realized that I left it on the counter this morning after I paid the termite inspector....while I was bra-less, by the way.

I continued to rifle through my purse...praying there would miraculously be a stray check laying around. (I am sure the checker thought I was looking for my food stamps). She was finished beeping and was staring at me. The time had come to tell her.

"Um....I am so sorry but...." ..... just then Bradley started poking my leg yelling, "Mommy, Mommy!"

"What Boo?", I asked in annoyance.

"YOU SMELL LIKE A DIRTY HOT DOG!"

Bad timing Bradley. Bad, bad timing.

The checker didn't crack a grin. I continued, "I am so sorry but I left my checkbook at home. Can you hold these and I will be back in ten minutes?"

I could see the wheels turning in her head.

Greasy woman + children + no wedding band + eaten groceries + "no checks" = vagabond single mother trying to feed children without shoplifting and she is NOT coming back with a check.

As soon as I got in the car Boo continued to tell me I smelled like a dirty hot dog. I smelled my shirt and didn't smell a thing. THEN I blew my nose. THEN the smell slapped me across the face and left a mark. I was wearing a Tshirt that had been violated by a mildewed load of laundry that had gone neglected while sick.

Everyone in Walmart HAD to have smelled it.

I came back with my checkbook. She looked shocked....but at least she didn't ask me for my ID.
I still have a teensey bit of dignity.

Pray for me.