The Weekend I Almost Became a Supermodel

Via my Pinterest by The Fashion Doctor

...but instead ended up in the E.R. of Arkansas Children's Hospital with throbbing pain at the incision site of my recent surgery.

And just like that, my would-be career as Northwest Arkansas' Next Top Model was done.

This weekend, the hubs and I had plans to walk the runway at NWA Fashion Week for Mason's, but all that changed around noon on yesterday. I started having some weird shooting pains and lots of aching around the incision and, after consulting with a doctor at ACH via phone, decided to head on down to Little Rock and get it checked out.

I'm not going to lie. I bawled my eyes out about missing Northwest Arkansas Fashion Week. As Stephen drove with the stealth and speed of an Indy 500 racer, I sat shotgun, sputtering and sobbing about how I must have done something terrible in another life to have had this surgery and recovery coincide with Fashion Week. Karma had finally caught up with me. And with a vengeance.

So there it was, Fashion Week; come and then gone, faster than one can say 'suture'.

And I missed the whole fabulous, friggin' thing.

I looked at a few pics from the grand finale on Facebook this morning (the portion we were slated to be a part of), but I had to quit. It looked amazing. And if there's one thing I live for, it's 'amazing'.

And I hate missing out on fun, especially fun that involves stilettos and champagne and gobs of eyeliner.

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I'll be honest. I've been a little down lately.

I feel like I've been stuck in this house for two weeks now and it's starting to get to me. I mean, you know you've got a massive case of cabin fever when you actually look forward to going to follow-up appointments at the doctor's office (!!)

My emotions have been crazy; up and down and sideways and backwards.  I'll cry at the drop of a hat then moments later, I'm fine again. I've heard this is extremely common after you've had general anesthesia, because it takes quite a while to get out of your system. I've had lots of surgeries in my life, but I've never experienced mood swings quite like with this one. According to the resident in the E.R. last night, the older the patient, the harder it is to get out of the after-surgery 'funk' that is so common.

No wonder kiddos bounce back so quickly.

Thank GOD for Twitter and this blog or....oh Lordy...who knows what state of mind I'd be in.

I miss being able to put on cute clothes that don't have to button-up the front. I miss being able to wash and style my own hair. I miss driving.

Driving. That is a small luxury that we take for granted until we rely on others to get us from place to place.

I'm incredibly blessed to have friends and family that have gotten me through the past couple of weeks, but I'm dying for things to return to normal. Or at least our 'normal'. After all, everyone has a different definition of that.

Okay, that's my melancholy monologue of the day. (Can you hear the tiny violins playing in the background?)

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If you're a new reader and this is your first time stopping by, my most sincere apologies. I promise it's usually oodles more upbeat around here.

But I needed to vent and get that off my chest. My sore and throbbing and steri-stripped chest.

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Here's hoping for participation in next year's NWAFW...may the gods of fashion make it so.

After all, I'm 27 years old and have few good modeling years left in me ; )

Be blessed, lovelies-