Don't Shoot The Umpire ...

... She's Doing The Best She Can!

Saturday I attended a Royals game with the in-laws.  Usually this is something I enjoy.  A hot dog or nachos, good company, loyalty to a not-so-great team.  Good times!  However, several events/mishaps occurred to make this a less-than-enjoyable day.  It all starts the night before ...

We drove to my in-laws in the evening, so I just threw on my p.j.'s and went like that, packing clothes for the game the next day.  This is about an hour and a half or two hour drive, depending who you ask.  Just keep this in mind for now.  For a couple of days, my skin had been really itchy.  My back, chest, neck, ears, arms, jawline, and eyebrows.  Weird, I know.  All I can think of that has possibly changed is our laundry detergent.  I switched from Seventh Generation liquid (unscented, undyed) to  Seventh Generation powder (unscented, undyed).  This is perplexing because it is only those parts of my body that itch. Not my legs or feet or tush or belly -- all of which, I assure you, comes in contact with stuff that has been washed!  Anyway, I don't usually like to take medicine unless I have to, so I was just waiting it out.  Finally though, the night before the game, I couldn't take it anymore!  I went to Wally World and called my mom and my friend K. to consult about the best thing to take for it.  So I bought some Benadryl (off brand, of course) for the night and some (off brand) Zyrtec for the day (so I wouldn't be drowsy at the game).  Took a Benadryl and went to bed.  We needed to leave at 9:30 the next morning, so I figured I could sleep till 9:00.  I mean, how long does it take to throw on some clothes and down a bowl of cereal?

So I drag myself out of bed around 9:00.  I brush my teeth and then get my pants on.  Dig into my bag for all the things a woman wears on her top half and -- oh no.  I didn't pack a bra!  Nor did I wear one down because, remember, I arrived in my p.j.'s.  At this point I have 15 minutes to run to Wal-Mart (again) and get one.  First of all, this is impossible.  Second of all, I didn't have a choice, so I attempted the impossible and failed miserably.  I tried on 5 bras (at the speed of light I might add), and they all stunk!  Itchy material, too tight, too loose, not breathable enough for a hot day, pokey wires, straps impossible to adjust ... the list goes on.  I settled on a too loose but wireless and breathable one for the day.  I mean, who am I out to impress?  Stephen is stuck with me as is.  I grabbed a Royals shirt while I was at it in an attempt to re-get into the spirit of things and then changed in the bathroom. Because at this point it was 9:42 and his family was on their way to pick us up from Wal-Mart.  I asked that they kindly bring me my hairbrush, headband, and some granola bars.  No sooner had I exited the bathroom when I recognized a serious flaw in my bra choice.  As I walked and it moved ever-so-slightly, I noticed that the elastic band that goes around me is not covered in any other fabric and is incredibly, extremely, painfully irritating.  I'm out of time though, and I already tore the tag off.  This is what I'm stuck with!

We walk out of the store, and I sit on a bench to wallow in self-pity when a friend pops out of the door and says, "Hi guys!"  It was L.!  A lovely friend from high school looking beautiful as always.  We got to small talk for a wee bit before Stephen's family arrived to get us.  I hope I wasn't too awkward as I was thinking half the time of how wearing a cheese grater might feel something like the elastic on this bra.  Ah well, I did the best I could!  And it really was nice to see her.

So Stephen and I hop in the car, and we're off.   I brush my hair, put my headband on, and eat two granola bars.  We actually end up making it to the ballpark with plenty of time because I didn't realize we were meeting another group of folks to tailgate before the game.  The food was actually quite good and someone even brought a fruit salad!  (I'm not sure if I've mentioned it, but I've got a pretty sensitive stomach, and the food traditionally associated with a tailgate is the same thing as an all-expenses paid and 100% obligatory extended stay in the nearest bathroom.  So woot for fruit salad!)  Yum yum, eating food, trickle down my side.  Wait, what?  It's not that hot outside yet, why am I sweating?  Oh.  I am sweating because I didn't put deodorant on.  Why?  Because my getting dressed routine is bra, deodorant, shirt.  And gosh darnit if that simple routine did not get put in a blender and flushed down the toilet this morning, proverbially speaking.  This is something that I can do exactly nothing about.  So I resign myself to the fact that I will smell like an armpit by the end of the day.

Knowing there is nothing I can do about stinking, I excuse myself to the restroom where I fold up a napkin and secure it between my skin and the cheese-grater elastic on the front of the bra.  This helps almost not at all, which is better than actually not at all, so I leave it.

Then I start to wonder if anyone has any sunscreen.  Because guess what?  I didn't think about that while I was busy making everyone late.  I ask anyone if they have any, and guess what else?  The answer is no.  And our seats are located near exactly zero shade.  Despite the fact that I took 3 breaks and gave up altogether at the top of 7th inning and watched the rest of the game from the breezeway with the smell of $10 hot dogs in the air, I still burned to a crispity-crisp.

At the end of the day after I was showered and aloed and deodoranted up, I had tossed the sad bra onto our dresser.  Stephen looked at it and promptly asked me if I had gotten it in the granny section of Wal-Mart.  After a short exchange, I realized that he was dead serious.  So instead of enjoying some baseball and overpriced food, I became a smelly, granny-bra wearing lobster.


And for the record, the fact that I have any sense of humor about this day at all does, in fact, count as "keeping on the sunny side."