When a hastag won't do

One of the things I love about Instagram is that I get to come up with phrases to put behind a hashtag. I'm not sure if I'm correctly using hashtags and Instagram, but I certainly get a kick out of thinking of them. Sometimes they are standard. I try to always do something related to Giselle or a puppy or a dog or something like that when I post a picture of Giselle. I try to include a hashtag that will make people smile if I can. If I'm really lucky, I can include a little phrase that makes me laugh out loud. Those are my favorite. It doesn't matter if other people laugh out loud, only me. I like to laugh.

But who doesn't?

As a general rule of thumb, the phrases behind hashtags aren't supposed to be super long. They should be somewhat explanatory, but not so long that they take up the whole line. Recently I've taken some pictures that I would have LOVED to share with the world, but the hashtag would have been too long. Or, and I'm not going to lie, I would have been ugly to post them. Because I know the people who actually read this blog, I feel like I am a bit less likely to offend people if I post those pictures here, along with a lengthy description of the picture and maybe not the nicest hashtags.

This one may be obvious. It's a tape measure. Around my stomach. I know what you are thinking, 'what's she got under there, a pillow?' No pillow, just a baby. A woman asked me a few days ago if I was carrying twins. Seriously. I'm so not even big for 37, almost 38 weeks. Granted, it may have something to do with how chocolate makes me sick and I'm restricted on what other things I can eat but still, I'm not that large. Certainly not large enough for twins. The lady then told me that she couldn't believe that my husband let me outside at 37 weeks. I'm pretty certain she has a habit of sticking her foot in her mouth. #rude #atleastmynailsarepaintedforthepicture #babyinside #ishouldnothavemeasured 

So. I got all the boxes and assorted small things put away and declared the nursery done. I ran in the living room to have Matt come look. After he finished seeing the finished product, I made him sit in the rocking chair with a loosely swaddled cabbage patch doll to pretend that he was actually rocking his own baby. At first, he was all mushy. Then, I got out my phone. His eyes rolled up and the frown came. It was funny enough to text but not to share with the world. Now you get to see it! #whenthehubbsainthappy #cabbagepatchfromthefarm #thedollaintgotshoesbuthehasclothes #atleast20yearsold #rockingchairneedstobealittlewider

 

Here's my mean post. This house is on my walking route. I see it twice a day (unless the weather is inclement and I am forced to the treadmill). For months now I've admired the flower beds (that you really can't see in this little picture) and composed-enough-for-southern-living look. I've imagined a retired lady slaving away in her yard to make it beautiful. Sun hat, little bag of yard tools, and gloves. About two weeks ago, I see a yard crew in the yard. INCLUDING THE FLOWER BEDS. I was livid. I still am. Like, so mad. My vision was wrong. #notgoodenoughforsouthernliving #whoamikidding #southernlivingdontcare #itisstillpretty #butinowipictureslaves #alagonewiththewind

 

Okay, I'm done. I better go wash the dishes before my husband comes home... Or my baby comes.