Mood Swings

Feeling pretty blech today.  Not sure why, but just feeling really down about everything.  Feel like I woke up this way or something.

Seems stupid but I'm pissed that the shoes I ordered don't fit.  Not like don't fit my swollen feet, I mean the ankle area (they are tall boots) are so tight you couldn't fit an average sized foot in there.  Ugh.  That means I have to go through the hassle of sending them back.

Then I tried on those nursing bras again to see if I actually like any of them, but I've decided to return all but one of them.  Even though they looked so cute on the website, they are in actuality hideous.  I am frustrated beyond belief of the lack of decent nursing bras.  I am not asking for a lot...just a friggin bra that doesn't come up to my collarbone.  I mean, I know I have a tendency to wear low-cut tops, but at this stage in "my-body-with-baby," my boobs are all I've got.  I can't seem to find one bra (in my ridiculous size) that is somewhat low cut.  Or just not high-cut.  I've searched all over the internet...It's crazy.  So either I don't wear a nursing bra and deal with the hassle of trying to breastfeed without those handy little hooks, or I completely revamp my wardrobe to include turtlenecks and sweatshirts.  And don't even get me started on trying to find a sexy lingerie look for my maternity photo shoot.  Cue Joe asking:  what do you do with those pictures anyway?

Of course I am not getting much support on these issues.  Joe thinks I should just cover up more...that's what you do when you become a "mom."  Never mind the fact that nothing I own will work with these damn bras.  So everything he's seen me in and everything he's loved, not doable.  And so I guess that means I am now officially a mom...a boring, high-cut-bra wearing housewife who would rather get a really great vacuum cleaner (or slow cooker) than have sex.  Makes it worse that he seems more concerned with his phone acting up than dealing with my funky mood.  Not that I blame him...not much can be said for me right now.  I'm likely to just start crying for no reason.

This morning I re-read the final chapters of What to Expect and am REALLY looking forward to birth now.  <---sarcasm   I mean, as if all the disgusting, unwomanly side effects are not bad enough already, but now I am facing bladder leaks, bleeding, swelling, tearing, gushing, gas, and even more friggin weight gain.  I know, I know...there is a higher purpose for all this and the outcome will be beautiful, but fuck...  I'm pretty much over it.  I feel bad about myself and I still have roughly 11 more pounds to look forward to...bigger boobs (seriously?!?!?!)...waddling (attractive)...and still no job.

Ok, I've tortured you enough...