Friday, March 12, 2010

The Waiting Game

I’m supposed to be doing productive things around the house today. Today is my favorite day of the week, because it’s ‘Clean the house day’. I would really like to call it: ‘I am going shopping, because I don’t want to get in the way of the housekeeper day.’ (Insert sigh)

Speaking of clothes shopping; I haven’t went. I am forcing myself to wear last seasons old crappy clothes. I just can’t justify buying new clothes just before a tummy tuck, which the date is has yet to be determined. I have a strong feeling that I am not going to be getting my surgery until the end of May. Do you have any idea how much torture I'm endearing being forced to wait that long? Twelve weeks! It might as well be a life time. Maybe I should reconsider this no shopping rule that I’ve imposed on myself.

I should tell you that I did buy two new things: jammies; for my tummy tuck recovery of course. Oh crap I forgot I bought one more ‘un-mentionable’. This fine garment is my coming home from the hospital outfit. I am going to try my best to explain what this fine garment looks like. Just in case you would like to follow my fashion lead.

It’s a moo-moo, with white plastic snap buttons that go from top to bottom, it’s is a lovely shade of baby blue, and made of a light weight terry clothe material, but my favorite feature of said outfit is the pastel floral design found on the neck and shoulder region of the moo-moo.

My best educated guess is that you can find this moo-moo, or something similar at your favorite K-Mart, or Wal-Mart shopping boutiques.

I think I may burn it after my recovery, or save it until I’m 90. Both would be acceptable options.

Let’s just recap:

I have the moo-moo. I have the ‘retirement recliner’ a.k.a lift-recliner. I have the pjs. I have the money. I have the courage. I just need the darn consultation!

If I can get my car insurance company to give me more than I paid for my car, and do it within 3 days. Why can’t I get the plastic surgeon (who I want to pay) see me sooner? Life just doesn’t make sense.

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