buttons

Feeling super pregnant today: bought maternity clothes off the internet then got emotional watching The X Factor while eating cookies. OK, so other than the word “maternity” that sentence could refer to any other Wednesday night of mine. But now I have an excuse.

I’ve always gotten hot easily with my hyperhidrosis, but now I’m even hotter more often. Can scalps sweat? Because mine seems to think so. I constantly check our thermomstat to see if it really is hot or if it’s just me. The sad thing is, I look at the temperature, and don’t even know if 76 degrees is hot for a house or not.

I’ve been watching a lot of the Rachel Zoe Project – this season in which she is pregnant. She is always wearing skinny pants with tall stilettos and a leather jacket – making pregnancy look so fashionable and nearly glamorous which all of us non-millionaires know not to be the case.

But maybe I could clean myself up a little more this time than I did last time. Last time I was a slob. So it doesn’t take much to be a step up. I factored that into my maternity clothes purchases tonight, not being so sloppy. I even bought one shirt with buttons on it.

When my little brother was younger, he hated buttons. He refused to wear shirts with buttons. Once mom forced him into one for church and he bit the buttons off in the car. It was a real struggle to find anything acceptable for him to wear to church. I remember he had a striped polo with a zipper. He wore that pretty frequently. Even now, he doesn’t love buttons. He’s a t-shirt kind of guy.

I wonder if our child will have some weird idiosyncrasy like that. I’m sure he/she will. I don’t know anyone without something. I don’t know anyone who is 100% normal. How boring we would be if we were.

What I love about normal is that there is no such thing. It’s like a holy grail for the oddballs: what other people tell them to be but they probably aren’t that interested in becoming. We all have our thing. I cry while sweating with a cookie in my hand, watching reality tv. My brother bites buttons off his shirt. My husband wears soccer socks in his team’s colors on game days.

I could out a hundred different people here with the oddities I love about them, but what would the point be? Because the point is to find some odd person and love them how they are. Sweaty, buttonless, crying and all. If you’re constantly trying to change people, you’re never actually loving them.