remind me later

Look at that young, bringht, cheery, thin Utah driver with the hair that's doing just what it's supposed to do. It's too bad that one of the only two good pictures ever taken of me was merely the size of a quarter and not plastered on a billlboard somewhere. But the miniature nature of the portrait stop me from feeling a boost of confidence everytime I was required to pull out my ID. Yes, that's me, I'd reassure the cashier/bouncer/highway patrolman with my eyes. No, I don't model, stop it, you're making me blush (all said with my eyes). Lest you think my vanity is getting the better of me, I guess you're right, but let me remind you that this is one out of only two good photos ever taken of me, so I had to milk as much pride from it as possible until the time came to take a new license photo. Unfortunately that time came last week. 

It could be the 25 pregnancy pounds, the expired hair cut, the muggy DMV air, the rule against tilting your head sideways in the picture, or the photographer who seemed vexed by my very existence, or all of these factors combined that turned that bright, young Utah, driver into an unkempt 58 year old woman who still has yet to change her last name to that of her husband's (MY BAD).

As far as baby arrival is concerned, I've made exactly the same amount of progress as I had made at the last doctor's appointment. So it looks like I'll be pregnant forever.