|Welcome to Winter. The time when I hate everything.|
- I think the next time a teacher asks me if I'm pregnant, I will find a sock and shove it in their mouths while screaming "no I'm just fat." Teacher lady today actually patted my butt after grabbing my stomach asking me if I was sure. This is the same school where a woman ran up to me and grabbed my dress tight to see if I was pregnant. I don't know if I mentioned the time a teacher drove me by a birthing clinic to recommend it to me. I also just realized this only happens to me at elementary schools. Maybe being constantly surrounded by tiny, shrieking remainders of failed pull out methods makes them assume everyone female is pregnant all the time.
- I'm actually not joking, the pull out method is still the preferred form of birth control here from what I've heard.
- I don't know if I can blame the woman. I do wear so many layers in the winter kids ask the teachers what happened to me. I went in the bathroom today to do a profile check and my clothes actually did give me the same appearance as a 3 month along woman or a man who has seriously overeaten on Thanksgiving.
- I have been so busy I feel like I have 0 free time at home. This is why it's taken me two weeks to realize I haven't blogged at all. I thought I had just a few days ago.
- I'm already wearing my wool tights under my jeans and it feels like sweaters on my legs. I hate it. I want to have bare legs warmed by the sun, not under the cold oppressive tyranny of winter layers. I want to be able to sit at work without wearing my coat, a blanket across my lap, and ear warmers.
- I'm just starting with the Christmas lessons this year and I am waiting for the awkward "why doesn't Santa come to Japan?" from the smaller kids. It happens every year and I have yet to find a good answer because a lot of families really don't celebrate it here which means no presents which means I just told them they aren't good children. Teacher problems. I am not going to be the one telling tiny children Santa isn't real.
- My father did not want me believing in Santa Claus. My mother did. Mom came up with a compromise that she would explain Saint Nicholas and his gifts to the poor and the spirit of giving he represented. As a preschooler, my mother's carefully thought out explanations passed right over my head and all I wanted to know was "Is Santa Claus dead?' She replied that yes he had gone on, but that his spirit still lived on. She was later confronted with a hysterical pre-school teacher that going on about how I was telling all the children Santa Claus was dead and she was promised she wasn't the one who gave me that idea. This story used to just crack me up because of my mom's failed attempt to explain Christmas to me and what I had done, but I really feel for that teacher now.
- I like blogging with bullet points.