On losing things...

I lose my keys on a regular basis only to find them at the bottom of my purse. I had Lasik a few years ago, but was known to lose my glasses...while on my face.

My blackberry gets lost in my bra on a regular basis. Don't ask. Because if you do, I'll be forced to dedicate a blog post to the very subject.

I've even lost the parked mini-van in the mall parking lot once and was wandering the lot long enough for mall security to take pity, offer me a ride, and drive me to the opposite end of the mall where it became apparent I had exited the building on the wrong side.

The Husband had a brain-glitch a few months back and told me to go buy myself that pair of Oakley sunglasses I had been drooling over and by drooling, i mean I knew I was never going to have them because I used to lose $5 gas station sunglasses every time the sun set so I grabbed they keys when I found them and ran out to the mini-van I knew where it was this time and drove to the mall Dont worry, I have a file in my blackberry for where I park now before he regained his senses. I've lost these bad boys a few times and have had panic attacks until they turned up again in the diaper bag, the mini-van glove box, or, not surprisingly, on the bridge of my nose.

The point is that I lose things. Without effort.

This brings me to two questions.

#1 Why haven't I lost the baby weight yet? Buttercup's blown out the candles on her third birthday cake. Self-imposed deadlines have come and gone. And I'm still trying to earn my MILF card. And the kicker is that I've been trying...like, for realz.

#2 Who was the jack-hole who decided to coin the term "weight loss?" When an individual needs to or desires to see a lower number on the scale for whatever reason, why is it that they have to "lose the weight?"

Losing things is easy.

Losing weight? Dropping the baby f(ph)at? Not so much.

Now...where the hell did my last nerve go?