Don’t judge me…

This is a story from a few weeks back but I was too sick to finish it and post it. And really, it didn’t make much sense. Nauseous people should not be attempting to write. It may still make no sense but I trust you care enough about my delicate feelings to keep that to yourself.

The nausea has returned. With a vengeance. I fought it hard while Mrs. JT was here because I hated to have our one trip a year ruined. But by Monday morning, it was the worst it’s been. I was literally crying on the phone with Chris because dag nab it, I want to be joyful! JOYFUL!

I didn’t really do a whole lot of moving around Monday. I basically sat at my desk and attempted to work. However, I ran out of ginger ale and needed to make a Target run.

Why did I run out of ginger ale? Because when Mrs. JT and I went to Target on Thursday, all they had were cans. I don’t really like cans so I only bought one 12 pack. Who’s drinking all the ginger ale all the sudden anyway?

So off to Target I go. I brace myself for the smell of coffee combined with popcorn by planning to basically grab the ginger ale and high tail it out of there.

As I’m practically running down the aisle, something catches my eye on the end. You know, one of those displays meant to tempt you into buying something you both don’t need and don’t really want. But man, that display is so cute!

Yeah, I got suckered in.

To Franken Berry cereal.

Alright, ya’ll know I’m a bit of a cereal fanatic. But honestly, I have never, not once in my life eaten Franken Berry cereal. It was too sugary to have in our household as kids. And really, my cereal palate tends to lean more towards Corn Chex and Cheerios than sugary stuff.

I’m standing there, looking at this box and E tells me it would be okay to eat that. So I start having a conversation with E.

Are you sure because this stuff is not healthy at all?

Yes, I’m sure. I want that.

E, honey, I’m just not positive this would be something good for baby to eat.

I don’t care. I’ll make you sick if you look at anything else.

And sure enough, I looked at Count Chocula and felt that ole familiar nausea feeling.

Okay, I hear ya. Franken Berry cereal it is.

Yay!

I throw the box in my cart because seriously, I just had an imaginary conversation with my child who is about the size of a shrimp. I felt certain people were staring and had cell phones dialed to the local mental institution.

As I’m running to the back of the store to get milk for said cereal, Yoga Mom sees me. Oh, you know her. She’s at the grocery store in her full on yoga gear. Stretchy pants, $100 printed tee-shirt and matching yoga jacket. She’s wearing full makeup and her hair, although in a pony tail, took a significant amount of time to create that “just came from the gym” look. She has a body fat percentage of -4 and has a cart full or fresh, healthy organic food. I question whether she actually went to the gym or just likes to look like she’s casual and cool.

Anyway, she gives me that sideways glance that says “you look like pooh”.

And I did.

I’m frantic to get the heck out the smelly store so I’m probably a little wild eyed. My belly is just big enough to make it look like I could use some serious time with a treadmill. And my cart is full ginger ale, Franken Berry Cereal and now organic milk. I’m a mess.

It was all I could do not to give her a smirk back and tell her “Hey, don’t judge me lady.”

Instead, I ducked my head, checked out and drank ginger ale in the car straight from the bottle.

I hope she didn’t follow me to my car.