I would like to preface this story by saying that Beau wakes up every three hours during the night. He's been doing this for six months. Needless to say, I am tired. And quite possibly delusional.
I went to a new chiropractor today. My back was giving me trouble and I was hoping for a quick adjustment. Harper was at preschool but Violet and Beau were with me.
"Well, should we get started?" The doc asked.
"Sure!" I said. "Just let me get them situated."
I handed Violet her 98 My Little Ponies. I gave Beau--who was sitting in his carrier--a bottle, then I took off my shoes, my jacket and my shirt. I folded them, laid them on the ground and stood up.
Then I paused. This didn't seem right.
I was standing there in my high-waisted leggings pulled up well past my belly button. I had about five inches of muffin top between the top of my pants and the bottom of my nursing bra. If you're not familiar with a nursing bra, it's similar to a sports bra but grandma-ier. And I had nursing pads sticking out of each side of the bra. (Nursing pads are essentially maxi pads for boobs so I don't drench my shirt every time a kid cries in public.) Which probably looked like I had stuffed my bra to the untrained eye.
It had been two years since I'd been to a chiropractor, but I'm pretty sure I didn't need to take my shirt off. I wracked my brain to come up with a reason for taking off my shirt. Nothing. I eventually looked at the doc.
"Um. We don't. You don't need to-," he started.
"I didn't need to take my shirt off, did I?" I asked.
"Nope," he said. "Nope," he said again.
I put my shirt back on.
I have another appointment on Wednesday. I'm making a mental note to keep all my clothes on for that one.
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