S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y Night!

Tonight my husband's band is playing at a bar in Vancouver.
But I am sitting on my couch in Port Moody, eating chips and dip and watching a really, really lame Christmas movie. And I'm actually happier here than I would be there. Sure, maybe if I could have a couple of gin and tonics and wasn't the size of a house (or at least a double-wide trailer), I would have enjoyed going to the show. But I am huge and sober, so I'm good here.

I used to be fun, you know. You might not believe it, but it's true. I liked to go out. I liked music. I liked wearing nice clothes. I liked being around people. These days, I divide my time between my cubicle at work and my couch at home--with the occasional trip to the mall or the aquatic centre thrown in for good measure. Oh, and I haven't had my hair done in months. Really, months. The last time I had it done was before I went to Mexico in May. I know what I want to do to it, but I keep putting off actually getting it done. What's the point anyway? Who cares what my hair looks like? I'm a married pregnant woman who lives in the suburbs. I am invisible. Man, I wish I could take a day or two off of being fat and tired. I wish I could buy a fabulous new fall outfit and go out and have fun. But this is good, too. Who needs to be the life of the party when they can just have a bath and watch Saturday Night Live in bed?