It's Official

I got my new driver's license today.

We've only lived here since August, so I thought it was about time.

Actually, I attempted to go and get this done when we first moved, being the law-abiding citizen that I am, but there was some craziness along the way that prevented me from getting it until now.

One of which was the insane amount of documentation that you must provide to prove who you are. The one that held up my process was the proof of my name change.

Really? Couldn't they trust the great state of Texas that I legally changed my name when I got married?

The first time I went to the DMV, it never crossed my mind that I'd need that. Until the big mean frizzy haired lady snarled at me in disdain and chastised me publicly for not having proper documentation.

We've been married 12 and a half years. I have used my marriage certificate one time, to get my name changed when we first got hitched. And then I put it away for safe keeping. Apparently I chose a good hiding place, because I haven't yet found it. Though I swear up and down that it exists in one of those boxes that still sit unpacked.

So I had to order a new one. We did discuss just getting married again here after we saw a wedding chapel where Elvis can marry you and a girl in a poodle skirt can escort you to your green limo. With neon lights and everything.

But, for the sake of simplicity, we opted to just order the new one. Which turned out to be not so simple after all.

But it finally came. So I went today, with two kids in tow, and got my new license.

It was going smoothly until I had to write down my haircolor. Of which I don't even know anymore.
It was in the middle of color confusion that the lady asked me if I was required to wear eyeglasses for driving. I might point out that I do wear glasses, but I am not technically required to wear them, and in fact didn't even have them on or know where they were at the time. So I answered, "No." Which prompted her to give me a sight test. A sight test where I couldn't even see anything but blurred lines of red for what seemed like an eternity. After putting me through an agonized, sweaty panic, she finally told me I might want to adjust the headpiece. I did, and was able to read the letters just fine. Thank you Lord.

And for some unknown and unkind reason, they ask for your weight and then PRINT IT RIGHT ON THE LICENSE. Right beside your picture. I cannot think of one good reason for this. Not one. I came close to asking if I could put my "pre-pregnancy" weight, since I have a baby and all. Who is 6 months old. And three others I have birthed in the last few years. But seeing as how I didn't have any of their birth certificates with me, I didn't think that would fly. But still.

Instead of asking anything, I wrote down some numbers and turned in my card. A quick flashback from the impromptu eye exam sent a cold chill up my spine, and I had a horrifying vision of a giant scale, that would beep loudly and announce to the whole building my discrepancy in numbers, if by some weird chance I had written the incorrect weight, and would then open up and drop me down a scary tunnel, never to be heard from again. Like on Willy Wonka, and the bad egg scene. Still gives me nightmares.

But alas, there was nothing of the sort.

Only an overly smiley lady ready to snap my picture and a strange man behind me in line that smelled of cinnamon rolls and whiskey.

And then they destroyed my beloved Texas license. The one with the number I've had since I was 16. I almost cried.

We were dismissed, and I left the building with the diaper bag, my purse, my file folder of official documents, two kids, a sippy cup, Bluis, and last but not least, my new I.D.
I hope it proves to be worth the weight. I mean, wait.