Attack of the MommyBots

I went to Babies 'R Us with my mom yesterday. I love the store just as much as the next person. Reasonably priced clothes, being able to feign shock and awe that people would actually pay that much for a pack-n-play, hell, what's not to love?

Oh yeah. This one fact: I have never seen a fat chick in Babies 'R Us.

The women generally shopping in there are what I like to call MommyBots. They are the size two's with legs longer than my entire body, nary a hair of place on their heads, driving huge SUV's roaring through the parking lot, and perfectly pedicured toes without so much as one teensy tiny chip on those perfect french tips.

It disgusts me. I'd rather see a 500-pounder in a tank top scootin' through Walmart on a motorized wheelchair.

The MommyBots also have with them what I call Super Babies. Not Super Babies as in the super duper smart types. But, as in the types, who do not have cheesedip on them from lunch. The types who do not have dirty faces or sticky hands or scabby elbows. They never scream in the store and they're usually placed in one of those seriously-how-much-did-they-pay-for-that cutsie thing-a-ma-jiggers that people put in a shopping cart to keep their Super Baby from being bored and/ or gnawing on the handle.

These MommyBots never look as though they've changed eight poopy diapers in one day or as if they've ever cleaned up a play room only to find a turd in the toy box.

And they intimidate the holy hell out of me.

Even when I feel cute in my getting-so-big-they're-falling-off-my-ass cropped jeans. Even when I've, um, "borrowed" my step-sister's Chi in order to straighten my hair rather than using my $39.99 Remington for the job. Even though I know their children can't be perfect all the time -- and neither can their hair. Even though I know they have to clean up poop and drag a screaming toddler out of a doctor's office and cajole a child into doing whatever by promising them a cookie. I know all this.

I wonder if I'll ever get over that feeling of intimidation.

I don't know if it's a weight thing, a looks thing, or a perception of perfection thing. But I do know I feel like the fattest, frumpiest mom to the brattiest kids everytime I walk into that store.

But, dammit, if I don't feel like a rock star in Walmart! ;)

** Our "fake-cation" was cut short thanks to a change in hubs work schedule so we're back in the Big D. And not a moment too soon. We're glad to be back and I'm glad to be getting back to the grind with eating right and exercising. Maybe this week's weigh in won't be too bad. (We'll just forget about the corn dog. And the empenadas. And the cheesesticks. And then . . . )

Daily Menu for Thursday

Breakfast
Blueberry Pancakes
Total Points: 4

Lunch:
Mexican Pizza
Chips
Total Points: 6

Snack
Brownie w/ caramel
Total Points: 2

Dinner
Faux-fried chicken strips
Oven fries
Total Points: 4.5

Snack
Frozen Grapes
Total Points: 2

Total Daily Points: 18.5