I had one of those days today.
At lunch I removed my fajitas from the microwave. Chicken fajitas that Nick had made a couple of days ago, and I was now going to enjoy the leftovers. It smelled good too. The cheese was melted just right, and all I had to do was take my plate from the microwave to the table and start eating. Except that all I did was take my plate from the microwave and turn it upside down, halfway on the counter and halfway on the floor. I started to get really angry, and then I quickly changed to a near-tear induced grief.
My lunch was all over the floor. I fought back real tears.
Nick took me to Rosa's instead of eating whatever he brought today since I was now without lunch. It really doesn't pain him to have to go to Rosa's.
This afternoon I was standing in Nick's cubicle sharing with him that I had just realized I now have cankles. I didn't really notice before because, well, I can't see my ankles unless I really try. They are swollen and puffy. It's sad. It's terrifying. It feels like I will never see them again. I promise, if you grabbed one of my ankles and held on to it for 10 minutes and then removed your hand, I would be left with your hand print for the rest of the day.
Do you know what my dear, sweet, ever-supporting and loving husband said to me?
"Maybe you should try support hose. I read it in one of your books...they are supposed to help."
I again had to fight the urge to cry whilst fighting the urge to slap him across his well-meaning cheek.
Support hose.Men...please do not ever, ever suggest to your pregnant, hormonal and emotional wife that she might try support hose. When she comes crying to you that she has cankles or pimples or is now the size of a beached whale, look her straight in the eye and tell her she's the most beautiful woman that ever lived.
And mean it.