Thursday, December 4, 2008

The Dilettante's Official 100th Post

I'm so glad that "my people" are keeping  track of how many posts I've completed, because honestly I have no clue.  It's just like literary diarrhea.  I sit down, my fingers start moving over the keys and whatever's been on my mind just seems to spill out of the black netherlands of my psyche.  

It's kind of on the same page as exercising...or coitus.  When I've been doing it for awhile I look forward to it every day and feel kind of off if I haven't done it.  But dare I take a leave of absence and the prospect of starting up again is more daunting than climbing up Everest.  So, please, bear with me while I flex these muscles that seem to have atrophied due to my pregnant brain.

On Monday I will post my first pregnant photo.  I enjoy watching my friends progress in their pregnancies and think it will be an adventure to document mine this time too.  Along with the growth of my stomach I will also be keeping track of my ass, because apparently, it's pregnant too.  

Before I ever got pregnant with Elsbeth I would imagine myself as an adorable pregnant woman waddling around with no more than a large belly and a glow of excitement.  Oh, what a shock I was in for.  I know that my issues during that pregnancy were in large part due to my slothfulness and poor diet.  This time though, I don't know what to blame it on.  I barely have time to eat and with the fifteen flights of stairs in this house I am getting one hell of a glute workout every day.   

I think I am just destined to be a chubby pregnant lady.  Do I like that?  No.  Do I particularly enjoy being pregnant, ummmmmm NO.  I like the end result, minus the fact that I was nearly ripped in half last time.  But hey, little secret, the honeymoon's NOT a myth.  

Being pregnant is like having your body hijacked, and by God if I didn't love my little babies so much, I'd be pissed.  Sometimes I imagine a day where I moan to them...How can you say that to meeeeee?  I gave you the BEST years of my BODY!  

All that bitching aside for now folks, I gotta say, when pregnant, my boobies would make any National Geographic photographer proud.  Their sheer mass is intimidating to any newborn about to indulge in their first meal.  Why just the effort exerted from hauling them and my growing stomach around all day...oh and a two year old that insists on being carried up and down these stairs all day should burn about 1000 calories.  

Most of my friends that have children tell me to relax and just enjoy being pregnant because who knows how many times I'll do this again.  To them I say, who are you that you can surrender your body so easily to the veins, and the heartburn, and swelling, and the gas.  You are apparently not the wanton, self absorbed creature that I am.  And I applaud your matronly asses, but no, I cannot give in.  

I will dutifully cook this baby in my womb and count the days until it's out.  And then the hard part begins.  But...and here's where I grow all misty eyed... it is the hardest and most rewarding thing I have ever done.  And I will forever thank God that at least I don't get pregnant in the face.  Well, not for another four months or so.  Then hello, Violet Beauregard!

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