Responsibility Sucks.

I'm semi-depressed at the moment. And it is for a somewhat stupid reason, but just because I have to be responsible doesn't mean that I have to like it or be very mature about it.

Back up to November 2007. Wait, back up a little further, first. I have 2 children, 2 beautiful wonderful children that I lovingly carried for 9+ months in my womb, letting them feed off of my body. Kinda like leeches, if I really stop to think about it. In order to show me their gratitude and remind me forever that I had, in fact, carried them, they tore my body up. Apparently, if you gain somewhere around 60 pounds (each time, I might add) and have the same genes as my grandmother, well, kiss your cute little 18 year old body good-bye. Stretch marks, extra skin, yucky boobies, all of that, you will be blessed with. Did I know this? No, because my mother is a mutant, and came through all 3 of her pregnancies with 2, yes 2, itsy bitsy teeny weeny microscopic stretch marks. No extra skin, no boobies down to her belly button, nothing. So I thought, somewhat mistakenly, that my genes would be slightly more similar to hers.

Fast forward to November 2007. After several years of moping about, bitching about what our leeches children had done to my body, husband decided that I had definitely earned some much needed repair. Off to the plastic surgeons office we went. He poked, prodded, lifted, measured and molded until I thought my husband might explode. After all, husband was sitting right there the whole time Mr. Doctor was lifting and all. But he maintained his composure, and even laughed at me standing there in my paper gown and socks, freezing my ass off. Once fully redressed we headed into his office. While waiting for him, we played with the implants that were lying on the table just asking to be squeezed. Just before I could attempt to throw them at husband like a water balloon, Mr. Doctor walked in. We went through before and after photos of other women who had had the same procedures I was interested in and asked and answered questions. No, they won't pop if you throw them like a water balloon, by the way. Full of information and on cloud nine after seeing photographic evidence that we could repair the damage wrought by grandmas genes, we headed into his office managers office, supposedly to go over financing options and what not. That is where they dropped the quote on us. $17,000.00.

$17,000.00! $17,000.00? $17,000.00. Doesn't matter what way you say it, that is beyond an ass load of money. I'm sitting there telling the office manager that it will be awhile before we can come up with that kind of money, even with financing, and husband butts in with, no really, I think that it will happen sooner rather than later. He must still be in awe over the pretty boobies we saw, cause usually he is the frugal one. We get the financing info, the office managers card and tell her we will call once we can come to terms with either the price, or husband forgets just how pretty the boobies were.

For the next week we talk about the cost, both financially and recovery wise, because the work on my tummy would practically incapacitate me for 2 weeks, and leave me very, very whiny for another week or two. Again, husband is adamant that I get this done in the very near future. I decide, well, lets see if getting the financing is even an option. I apply, and lo and behold, they approved us for the full $17,000. WTF? OK, now I'm getting excited. Sure, it means that we'll be a little tighter money wise, but both kids are in school next year, I'll be able to go back to work, which would fix that. So, we decide that spring break 2008 is the perfect time. Kids are out of school, so I don't have to get up to take Ian to school, and Ian would be around to help me with his sister, the dogs, my sweetly worded requests. Plus, that is after tax time. Because we only have one income, plus we have a rental property that is a loss year after year, we always seem to get a tax return. I know that this is an interest free loan to the government, but it also means that we get a surprise at the beginning of each new year. So, we can use some of that to put down on the surgery, to lower the amount financed.

Well, I filed our taxes on Monday. And, the amount we are getting back is ridiculously high. High enough to pay off all but one of our nine credit cards, pay the registration on both vehicles, put back a decent chunk for emergencies and still have a couple hundred to take care of Ian's birthday in February and maybe even have dinner out.

Hmmmm......... Be responsible and debt free, or be selfish with a great rack and flat tummy.

Like I said, responsibility sucks. Once summer hits, I'll be the one by the pool. You'll know it's me by the floppy tummy and saggy boobies.