Do I know you?

I vividly remember standing in the kitchen with my grandma. She was teaching me how to make cornbread, and in between ingredients, she would offer up words of wisdom. "Hand me that corn meal puddin' pop and remember, If you only have five minutes until your husband comes home and you must choose between cleaning up yourself or the house, always choose yourself." I know, all of you feminists are gasping for breath, but years later her words still resonate in my mind. Sure I'm not home cooking and cleaning all day, but I have realized the importance of showing respect for my body by taking care of it.
Well, on this particular day, my hubby had already seen both me AND the house a wreck, so I threw caution to the wind and headed out to conquer my to-do list. I had a sick kid, a headache, and two hours sleep, so I felt rather proud of the fact that I had showered, dressed the kids, put on my one pair of jeans that fits, a bleach stained maternity shirt, and a little mascara before heading out the door. I got in the car, cranked up the air to dry my hair, and tried to ignore granny's words of wisdom bouncing around in my head. Well, as I hurried in and out of stores and banks and pharmacies, I think I stumbled upon EVERY SINGLE PERSON I have ever known...friends from high school, from church, from work, neighbors, family friends... every person I thought I would never see again just happened to bump in to me. Oi. They gave me that 'oh my, she really let herself go' look accompanied by the 'bless her heart' smile. Oi. Maybe I have let myself go. I HAVE let myself go.. but I don't want to start the sob story of baby fat that refuses to leave and the ridiculous amount of money that we don't have for hair and makeup, and the not so great plan I hatched a YEAR ago to just wear scrubby clothes until I could squeeze back into my pre-baby wardrobe. Great plan [insert sarcasm here]. But, all of my whining does not amount to any kind of excuse for not taking care of what I've got. So, to all of you who witnessed the scary, unkempt me out in action, I'm sorry, and to my dear southern belle of a grandma, thank you for teaching me both how to cook and how to be a lady.