Take that, Nutrisystem girl

Well, it happened: the first official lewd howl since having the baby. Apparently one does not need to waste away to size 2 on Nutrisystem in order to attract the unwanted attention of men in utility vans.

I don't know what's more troubling: that it happened at my daughter's school; or that it happened to me so soon after giving birth, leaving me with a shape that's more Frosty the Snowman than Marilyn Monroe; or that it happened while I was staggering like a drunk woman through the parking lot after pulling all-night baby duty solo (my husband is TKO by a sinus infection). I'm afraid it had more to do with the latter condition than any feminine charms I may have been eluting. In fact, I was in such a fog I didn't realize there was a person in the van, nor that the "hey, little MAM-MA, whew, you are NI-I-I-I-ICE," was directed toward me. Then two truths became clear: yes, there was a scruffy little man in the front seat of the van, and there was no one else outside. The sidewalk was deserted except for me, since we had gotten to school three minutes late and had to do the walk of shame into the principal's office to get a tardy note. Only one other kid arrived late, and his father had parked right by the front door, so he was no where in sight as I made my way back to the SUV.

I was too tired to heave one of my brown leather mules at my undesirable admirer's head through the open window. Besides, I like those shoes, and I had only recently been able to get my swollen feet into them again. So, I stumbled down the sidewalk and made my way to the Pacifica (yes, that's what I meant by SUV--Crysler classifies it as such, and it is NOT a van on steroids as certain persons have suggested). I have to admit I smiled a little as I started the engine. As noted in previous posts, I am annoyed by howls and whistles directed at random pedestrians by people in big vehicles, but in my bedraggled state--stained shirt, barely brushed hair, glasses and round tummy, it was nice to know there's still a girl under there--even if it probably was noted only because the beholder thought the bleary-eyed woman making her way past his van was too impaired to be offended. If only he'd known that mothers are like medical residents in their ability to function on .03 hours of sleep.

But don't get any ideas, little van man. Next time, I'm wearing my old clunky tennis shoes, and those I don't care to lose.