Thursday, April 8, 2010

Preggo Brain: My Excuse to be Stupid

There have been many times throughout my pregnancy where I've done something incredibly dumb and chalked it up to this thing I heard about called "preggo brain." Your body is working so hard to create life that it sometimes stops fueling the thinking part of yours.

I've stressed over losing things that I actually was just holding in my other hand, written down the wrong addresses, had numerous misspellings, failed to solve simple math addition without a calculator, forgotten my own name. It's pretty normal these days for me to do something stupid on a daily basis. But what I did yesterday pretty much takes the cake.

That morning I hit the snooze button at least five times on my phone. My back was hurting the night before and I didn't sleep very well. I was completely exhausted and didn't want to get out of bed. By the time I did get up I was running late for work and needed to hurry and get ready.

It was Wednesday, which meant I'd be working on a story about foster kids, and featuring them to help them get adopted. That means I don't have to get all dressed up in business attire like I normally do. I can slip on a pair of jeans, a casual maternity top and go.

In a hurry I run downstairs, where my shoes are, slip them on, grab my purse and kiss my husband goodbye.

By the time I get to work it's right on time for me to be able to print our directions to where we're doing the filming, and hook up with my photographer. I say hi to a few people but I'm pretty much in and out of the building.

The first shoot we were doing was at a boxing club. Once we got there my photographer realized he forgot the memory card to record the story on, so he dropped me off to meet with the people inside, while he drove back to the station to get what we needed.

I walk in and introduce myself to the hosts as well as the 13-year-old foster child. I told them we forgot our disk and that it would be another few minutes but we could just hang out and chat in the meantime. There's about five different adults there. Some of them volunteer at the boxing club, a couple were the boy's foster parents, and one of the ladies was a woman I work with for coordinating the kids we interview.

We're all getting friendly, and since there were chairs up against the wall I figure it would be a good idea if we sat down and talked since it was going to be a little while.

As I look down to make sure I don't fall while I sit (my balance is a little off) I notice something incredibly wrong, something I should have noticed an hour ago, something someone should have noticed long before I noticed, and someone probably did notice but was too confused or embarrassed to tell me. I notice this:
(actual photo from the scene)

Yes, I'm wearing miss-matching shoes. This is WAY worse than accidentally slipping on a navy blue with a black sock, or even two black shoes that are different styles. Not only am I wearing shoes that are two different colors, they're COMPLETELY different styles. I silently wondered how in the world I didn't feel the difference sooner, given that one of my feet was half exposed, and the other was covered by a loafer.

I immediately tuck my enormous size-11 feet under my chair and pray no one notices. But I don't have a desk job where I can hide my feet until the clock strikes five. There was no way no one was going to notice. I needed to do something.

I debated taking my shoes off. Sometimes that's appropriate, depending on the shoot... But this was not the case. Being a gym, it would not only probably look just as awkward as my miss-matching shoes, but I'd probably contract some sort of foot disease in the process.

I knew I had to be up front.

I thought of ways to admit my mistake. I debated making up an excuse like: "I hurt my foot and this is the only combination of shoes that I can wear."

Or: "It's miss-match shoe day at work."

But I knew I wouldn't be able to play it off and that it would just be best if I came out and was honest about my dumb mistake.

"Want to hear a funny story?" I asked, breaking the ice. I went through my story of being in a hurry to get ready for work, and ended with the punchline. I brought my feet out from under the chair.

Everyone about died laughing. I laughed too, but I was still incredibly embarrassed, especially when one of the ladies pulled out her camera to take pictures and I realized that from now on when they see me on TV they'd remember me as "the newslady who wore the wrong shoes."

To my credit, it was dark when I slipped the shoes on my feet, the heels were the same height, so I wasn't walking lopsided, and I did have this obstructing my view:But most of all, I have the excuse of pregnancy, and the dreaded disease that comes with it called "Preggo Brain."
(After filming that story I did have a chance to go home and change my shoes before the next shoot, and before more humiliation. I am able to laugh about it now.)

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