8

and counting. That is the number of days of freedom I have left. The number of days before I lose my mind because there arent enough hours in the day to do what I need/want. The number of days until I have to leave my precious daughters in someone else's care. The number of days until I head back to "the daily grind". If you haven't guessed yet, I have to go back to work in 8 days. The thought of being back in the real world is exciting, but scary and depressing all at the same time. I am SO not looking forward to it, especially because I can't wear a single pair of my regular (or fat) pants! The only pants that fit are my maternity pants and that in and of itself is utterly depressing. I am going shopping this weekend to get pants to wear and I will lose it if I have to buy pants any bigger than "that size". You know the size, the one you swore you would never get bigger than no matter what. The size you have never been in in your life, the size that makes you feel like the fattest person alive and can send you into that "OMG I am disgusting" spiral. Fingers crossed that I can avoid "that size", but it isnt looking very promising.