Breakfast in a Hotel


Yesterday I told you all about my glam life living in a hotel (room). Well, one of those posh perks is getting complimentary breakfast. This comes in super handy since my kids have started school, while living in a hotel (room), and the already mentioned tiny fridge we have doesn’t allow for extras like milk/juice/real food.

TGILW has been a real gem this week, and has gone down to the lobby for bagel toasting duty. But today, I went.
The loung-ey area was full of business types/ morning people all did up and ready to meet the day head on after a hearty processed breakfast!

And then there was me.



Messy hair- don’t care. Yesterday’s mascara caked into the bags under my eyes. My pajama yogas that have lived a thousand lives (and weight changes) complete with who-knows-what-stains all over them, my Target “sports bra” that gives the false impression I’m braless with 30 year old (saggy) boobs as opposed to 41 year old (saggier) boobs, a tank top that is at least 3 duty stations ago old. Oh, and a little drool dried into the chin, for good measure.
I don’t know these people, and my kids need some breakfast, so I’m going about my mom bizness, homeless look be damned.



Then some ladies walk in. Ladies of employment. No, not that  kind of employment.

Suits. And slick and professional hair do’s. And heels. And nary a drool patch. WTF? It’s like 7 am – in the MORNING. What time did they get up?? Their skirts are wrinkle free – to match their youthful faces, their crisp white blouses were all stain free (what sorcery is this?), they didn’t walk like Frankenstein in their classy pumps, the arms of their  fitted blazer  didn’t bunch around mid-hand like normal. These ladies were straight up adulting.



And I stood there with my plate piled with carbs (for the kids!!) and my sad yoga pants and my bra not really helping and my scrunchy morning face and my squinty why-don’t-I-wear-my-glasses-more face and my Gary Busey hair.

And this is my life.