Everyone should feel bad for me today. I started crying this morning to Miley Cyrus' "Party In The U.S.A.". Now you KNOW I'm trippin.
"So I put my hands up. They're playing my song. The butterflies go away. Nodding my head like yeah. Moving my hips like yeah. Got my hands up. They're playing my song. I know I'm going to be okay. Yeeaaaaah. It's a party in the USA."
I feel an absolute mess and had an emotional morning on top of it. My hair is not done. My nails are breaking. And I hate what I'm wearing. I struggle every single day when I go to my closet. I wish I could trash my whole wardrobe and start over. I looked in the mirror when I changed clothes again and automatically knew it was going to be a rough day. When I finally left the bedroom, I saw that my husband packed his breakfast and lunch. After I looking around the kitchen for my breakfast, I realized he didn't take care of me. I guess with the internal and emotional struggle I was feeling, I really didn't want to have to pack my own breakfast if he was already in there, but oh well. I threw a yogurt and granola in my purse and walked out the house. So after I struggled to reach over and close the passenger side door that my husband didn't shut tight enough, I veered off, got on the beltway, and Miley came on.
"Got my hands up. They're playing my song. I know I'm going to be okay. Yeeaaaaaah."
I started singing it real loud. I guess the notion that music is going to make everything okay really hit me. So there I was, screaming this song at the top of my lungs with tears welling in my eyes.
"The DJ plays my song and I feel alright!!!!"