I completely freaked out the poor seventeen year-old dressing room attendant at Forever 21 by thrusting my discarded clothes at her, sobbing, and asking her if she'd ever seen how sausage was made.
Searching for a decent postpartum dress to wear to Fin's blessing is proving to be as frustrating and emotionally challenging as my attempts to get Fin to say "shark" as her first word. It's just not happening.
I'm going to have to resort to Dress Barn. Crap.
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