Justification by Pregheadedness

Dear Baby,

Yesterday Mama meant to go to prenatal yoga, but she couldn't get out of work on time, and there are worse things than walking into an already begun yoga class (i.e. genocide, famine, curdled milk), but yesterday, it just didn't seem worth the awkward consequences. So Mama went to check out the Newest Suburban Cesspool of Consumerism, for marketplace research purposes only.

Oh, and because Mama is hoping that Pampa and Granny come through on birthday wishes, she also ended up spending what she might prospectively receive from the g-parents. Because sometimes, Baby? It's about you. A lot of times, it's alllll about you. Which is great, you're the first thought when I wake up and realize that I cannot spring straight from the bed but must rather wriggle out of the covers like a butterfly emerging from her cocoon, and my last thought in the evening when Papa comes and hums in a deep baritone about frisbee injuries and chocolate soy milk. But occasionally, Baby, it's about Mama. First there was M-A-M-A, then there was B-A-B-Y, like Fantasia sings it, Baby. So yestereve, Mama put Mama first and she contemplated going into Sephora to buy some new make-up, some new mineral make-up, in particular, but guess what, Baby? If you're not a girl, you probably won't understand the fortuitousness of this, but Baby, in that suburban cesspool, there was an actual store that exclusively marketed the mineral make-up Mama was seeking!


In Mama wandered, but there were some suburban tweens dominating the counter, so Mama took a spin up and down the staircase outside of the store, and then meandered back in and met with Ashley.

If there is one thing Mama appreciates, Baby, it's informative, attentive service. And kindness is just the icing on the cake. Ashley the sales assistant presented Mama will the proverbial birthday cake -- in the middle, informative, attentive service; thoroughly iced with kindness.

Now, Baby, Mama ain't a sucker. She knows when someone is trying to pimp out Tinkerbell brushes and Turtle Wax and call them magic! But Ashley was so attentive to Mama's uneven skin tones. She suggested products enthusiastically, but not presumptively, and all of the trade secrets to mineral make-up foundation were all right there for the taking. Also, Baby, it's kind of nice to be told that one is "gorgeous." Not just because Mama might buy some product, but because Mama feels as though she is a a swollen piece of sashimi all slumped over a big mound of rice these days and it's nice to receive superficial praise. Bottomline, Baby, Ashley did her job, and Mama walked out with a new kit o' mineral make-up.

And because something like 7% of Mama's brainpower is devoted to thoughts of whether or not I'm listening to enough Tchaikovsky for your brain building, she walked into the department store loo and proceeded to walk out without the mineral make-up.

And didn't realize her negligence until...

she got to the car cum only one satchel...

racing as fast as her stubby pregnant legs would take her, she dashed into the stall last used to find no bag in sight...

...but some manner of shopping angel must have swooped down because Mama approached the sales assistant who had just taken the forsaken bag of minerals into the staff office.

::Sighs huge pregnant belly worth of relief::

Your mama may be a spaz, Baby, but at least her skin tone will now be even.