It's the classic Pregnancy Stance: a woman with her hand(s) on her belly, protectively cradling the burgeoning life within. At four months along I am as guilty of this pose as any 8.5 month-er. But here is the secret, ladies and gents: this new-found affectation of mine is not me unconsciously caressing my unborn child, or musing on The Miracle of Life. Oh hell no. Nor is it even (as seems far more likely, given my Dominant CamWhore Personality Traits) a "Look at me! Look at how amazing it is that I am Creating Life! I'm speeeeeee-shul!" sort of thing.
No, Gentle Readers, my hand meditatively stroking my belly is short-hand for "I'm not fat; I'm pregnant! Ask me how!"
(...no wait, don't do that...)
It's nice to know that this new stage of life isn't changing everything about me: the Paranoid Vanity is still there, kicking in and fighting furiously to let people know that It's Pregnancy Damn It. I'm supposed to be all swollen.
(Speaking of which, maybe I should start serenely stroking my ankles, too...)
Friday, May 29, 2015
Thursday, May 21, 2015
Pregnancy Has Turned My Stomach Into a Cat
If you have a cat- hell, if you've spent any time around a cat whatsoever- you know what I'm talking about.
Hey! says The Cat, in whatever phraseology he or she prefers. Hey! Human! You open that door! You open that door right now, because I need to go out!
So you, being the decent, thumb-wielding being that you are, open the door for The Cat. And The Cat looks out the door, looks up at you, looks out the door, and says, Hmm, you know, I don't know... maybe... and goes about halfway out. And then The Cat says, Actually I think I'll stay in. No, wait, out. In! Out. Don't rush me. And you're standing there, holding the door open, going something along the lines of "Arrrrrgh!" until you eventually just shove- I mean nudge gently with your foot- The Cat out the damn door and shut it behind him/her.
I've been facing a similar situation with My Stomach.
Hey! says My Stomach. Hey! Feed me! You feed me right the hell now because THIS BABY NEEDS FOOD!
"Okay Stomach, simmer down," I say, and grab whatever improbable flavor combination it currently thinks Sounds Good. "Here, here's some food."
But as I open my mouth in preparation to take a bite, My Stomach says, Hmm, you know, I don't know... maybe what I actually want is to puke. I hesitate with the food. Feed me, damn it! yells My Stomach, so I move the food closer. Puuuuuuuke...
And so I eventually just shove the food in my mouth because what the hell- might as well have something to puke up, after all.
Hey! says The Cat, in whatever phraseology he or she prefers. Hey! Human! You open that door! You open that door right now, because I need to go out!
So you, being the decent, thumb-wielding being that you are, open the door for The Cat. And The Cat looks out the door, looks up at you, looks out the door, and says, Hmm, you know, I don't know... maybe... and goes about halfway out. And then The Cat says, Actually I think I'll stay in. No, wait, out. In! Out. Don't rush me. And you're standing there, holding the door open, going something along the lines of "Arrrrrgh!" until you eventually just shove- I mean nudge gently with your foot- The Cat out the damn door and shut it behind him/her.
I've been facing a similar situation with My Stomach.
Hey! says My Stomach. Hey! Feed me! You feed me right the hell now because THIS BABY NEEDS FOOD!
"Okay Stomach, simmer down," I say, and grab whatever improbable flavor combination it currently thinks Sounds Good. "Here, here's some food."
But as I open my mouth in preparation to take a bite, My Stomach says, Hmm, you know, I don't know... maybe what I actually want is to puke. I hesitate with the food. Feed me, damn it! yells My Stomach, so I move the food closer. Puuuuuuuke...
And so I eventually just shove the food in my mouth because what the hell- might as well have something to puke up, after all.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)