You Want to Know My WHAT?

Yesterday I went to the Department of Motor Vehicles (DMV), or as they call it here in New Mex, the Motor Vehicle Division (MVD). This DMV isn't as bad as the ones I've been to in California and Florida and it's definitely not as laid back as the one in North Dakota, but it did leave me sitting, and waiting, somewhat patiently, for two hours. There are ALOT of interesting people at the DMV. Watching people is very entertaining to me, until I forget that they can see me and then I become the creepy lady who is staring at everyone. You have those people who talk to EVERYONE around them, those who complain loudly but not directly to anyone, the standers, the seat stealers, those who walk in expecting to be helped immediately cause they just have a "quick question" and then storm out because they are adamantly refused (those are my favorite). Then you have the moms who bring their kids, which is always entertaining, especially for me....in my current medical status, but then I quickly become the creepy, staring lady again. No one ever talks to me though. Josh tells me it's because I look mean. So I sit quietly for two hours as the unapproachable pregnant girl who stares at everyone.

When it is finally my turn, I tell the lady I need a NM driver's license. I give her all the paper work and as she's typing in my current information she asks:

What is your weight?

I say nothing and just look at her. Then she adds:

Pre-pregnancy.

OF COURSE! I happily give her my pre-pregnancy weight and continue waiting as my new license is printed.

After a few minutes, she hands it to me and I glance down at it and gasp in horror. My weight says 154, which is my accurate pre-pregnancy weight, however, my picture is that of a double-chinned, 200 pounder whose HUGE face takes up the entire small frame of the picture window. AND I get to keep it for the next 4 years to whip out at a moment's notice and reminisce about my fat ass days. I guess I should be happy I still get carded.