note to self

-when you're this close to losing your patience with marlo because she is not only screaming at the top of her lungs, but also scratching the shit out of you while trying to climb up your legs because you aren't making her meal fast enough, don't get angry. it isn't her fault. it's yours. yes, yours. for all of those times that you bit joe's head off because you were hungry. for all of those times that you embarrassed yourself by demolishing the entire bread basket before asking any one of your table mates if they may care for some. for all of those times when you were just a plain ol' bitch and blamed it on low blood sugar. this is your karma.

-the middle of the day is probably not the best time to try out the latest mud mask you bought at sephora. for starters, it will frighten your child when you go in to get her up from her nap. secondly, you never know who is going to need to get into your apartment, like the super or oven repair man. as it turns out, men are just as easily frightened by your face when it looks like the swamp thing shit all over it.

-when getting your lady-bits waxed, don't let an archaic-kind-of-old woman with four inch thick glasses work over your parts. if she needs glasses thick enough to see pluto, it's probable that she may accidentally miss and drip hot wax somewhere it should never, ever be.

-stop looking at maternity clothes. stop sticking out your stomach in the mirror and trying to remember what you looked like pregnant. stop having a nervous breakdown every time you see a newborn baby. stop peering into strollers that you pass on the streets because the parents think you are an absolute creep or pervert. and dear lord, please stop sniffing and inhaling every baby that you come into contact with because it's just weird. newsflash: you have an almost eleven month old who keeps you more than busy. in fact, she's about to start walking and your world is about to get shit-kicked in the gut. not to mention, you just got your boobs back and you're currently working very hard on regaining what resembles a normal belly button. let's enjoy them both for a while. wrap it up and stop being so certifiable.

-finally, when you overhear a pair of young women in starbucks recapping last night's episode of the bachelor and using the word like at least, like thirty-seven times, next time, please try to not give them the god-i-find-you-sad face. for the sake of appearances, can you at least attempt to not make it so damn obvious! where is your poker face? where is the i'm-minding-my-own-business-but-really-making-fun-of-you face that you perfected oh so many years ago?? get it together, lady. there are children watching!!