Cha Cha Cha!

I wish this was gonna be about my most excellent Latin dance skills.  But sadly it is not.

Ever since Karen wrote the other day about her thoughts and feelings on the pregnancy body I have been keeping a mental checklist of thoughts on my own.  I really thought this go-round would be similar to my pregnancy with Em and that I’d find comfort in the fact that creepy weird pregnancy things that no one ever talks about would not sneak up on me.  I mean, I have done this before, right? Evidently that is not the case.

In the few short days I have been thinking about this I have come up with more than a few delightful side effects of pregnancy that have astounded me all over again.  Here they are in order of ascending grossness.

First sign of my struggle with the pregnancy body is that I stop looking in the mirror without my clothes on.  The only bathroom in our house with a shower is not large, but it does offer two fantastic features.  A window in the shower and a mirror that is not directly across from you.   The window means you don’t have to turn the lights on  in the morning, which I have always rather enjoyed and the mirror’s relationship to the bathtub means you do not have to actively avoid looking at your full-frontal naked self every morning when you get out of the shower.  This is always a perk, in my book, but even more so pregnant.  Consequently when Em and I hopped in the shower the other day after the swimming pool I was ill-prepared for her observation.

She is laughing. I am washing my hair.  Like a fool, I ask her “What?”

“Your boobs look like they have a chopped off hot dog sticking out of them.”

I’ll give that a minute to sink in.

Damn, kid.  She had ruined my illusion.  The illusion I had of myself with perfectly normal boobs.   I have seen enough boob both in real life and in umm… film and pictures to have a preferred boob style.  And let’s just say that hot dog nipples and enormous areolas nine shades darker than the skin tone surrounding them were not it.

How had I forgotten about this?  Sure, I have been gifted jugs a cup size larger than my normal of late, but in exchange I have had to trade in my perfectly normal nips (n squared, if you will) for this freak show.  And don’t get me started on the gigantic blue vein that should pop up any day now.

Moving on… in order of ascending grossness, you are both reminded and warned.    A week or so ago I realized I had an appointment with my midwife coming up and that I should probably remember to ask her if I can take a stool softener.  I know I can google it.  But I try to have one question.  It makes me feel like a “good patient” to have a question at each appointment.    Yes, I am that approval seeking.

While the constipation was unpleasant enough, it gets worse.   The fact that I had begun to envision the “ring of fire” that comes with a baby’s head crowning every time I tried to produce a dime sized turd was making me both worried and furious.  Worried that if these totally unsatisfying bowel movements were  making me cry and imagine the pain of labor that I’d never survive an actual unmedicated labor.  And furious that while I had been in the bathroom for upwards of twenty minutes the toilet still resembled a game of marbles.  One in which no one even brought a shooter.

So, I did the only thing I knew to do.  I drank a cup of real coffee.  And it was delicious.  And that morning’s drive to work was fabulous. I miss coffee.

Twenty  minutes after I got to my office I thought I was going to die.  I would be found dead. In the office bathroom.  A dent in the top of my head where it had caved in from the  sheer gravitational pull of the ferocious diarrhea I was experiencing.  Oh and my shirt would be ripped open.  Not (as you might expect) to give a sexy sort of Woman Ravaged on a Cover of A Romance Novel look (and you are supposed to have already forgotten about the hotdog nipples and the diarrhea in order for that imagery to be effective) but because I thought I was having a motherfucking heart attack and I needed to see if my heart was, in fact, beating on the outside of my chest from the caffeine.

Lesson learned.  While the coffee did produce the opposite effect of constipation, it was no more desirable.

Flash forward to the next day.  Same intestinal disaster. With the added bonus of vomiting.  I am coming up on day five of this good time.  This morning as I wretched in to a trash can and wondered if I might be able to get upstairs to the other bathroom before “the spirit” moved me again I looked down to the floor.    “Thumbs Up!” said the cheerful giraffe sticker Em had stuck to the floor.  I had no choice but to laugh.  Thumbs up, alright. Up my ass if I am gonna get anything done today besides sit around in the bathroom.

So, that’s the top three things I have forgotten about pregnancy so far.  Freak show hot dog nipples, constipation and it’s bitch of a sister diarrhea.

In other news, it’s Casual Friday for me.  Pigtails, flip-flops, my favorite crooked glasses and my boombox belt buckle.  While you may disapprove of my freaky nipple and poop talk, you have got to applaud my efforts at taking a picture of a belt buckle (that I can not see) with my phone.   For you.  I do it all for you.

 

 

 

 

 

15 responses to “Cha Cha Cha!

  1. Just found you and I’ve been shake-laughing reading this post. So beyond funny! And this is from someone who, at times, has an aversion to over-sharers! If you check out my blog, go to Disappearance of Discretion if you wanna know how I normally feel … but this? This was HILARIOUS :) Thanks for the laugh!

  2. I am dying. There is nothing better than a good poop story. But then you added in the hot dog nipples. And it was over; I’m now a superfan. But really, why do your areolas have to turn into large brown dinner plates when pregnant? Just why?!

    • You are not the first gal I have won over with my hot dog nipples. You are the third. Daughter #1 and daughter #2 and you! You are in good company. ;)

  3. Thanks for the link to your list. It’s always fun to commiserate with another suffering pregnant woman.
    I too, have done this once before but seemingly forgot about EVERYTHING that comes with it. Not looking in the mirror naked has become so rote that I didn’t even put it on my list. I simply forgot that I hate the way I look naked. Because I never see it. Except for those dreadful areolas. Gag.
    Oh, and thanks for reminding me about the most frightening term of pregnancy — the RING OF FIRE.

    Toulouse
    http://www.toulouseandtonic.com

  4. Pingback: Boobs! | Excitement on the side

  5. It’s funny cuz it’s true! If I don’t laugh at the perils of pregnancy, I would have a total breakdown. Thanks for visiting my blog and thanks for making me laugh with yours!

  6. Pingback: Fear | Excitement on the side

  7. Pingback: Bitch & Moan | Excitement on the side

  8. I remember the stare my mother gave me a few days after having Sammie. She glanced at me nursing my newborn daughter and a few minutes later asked, um… have those ALWAYS been that size?

    gee, way to make me feel like a freak, mom.

  9. Thanks for reminding me that I am NOT the only woman who struggles with her pregnancy body. I am going on week 36, so I have seen it all now, for the third time around. And yes, every pregnancy induced bodily disaster surprised me this time as much as it did the first two times. The good news is this. My husband still loves me and my body. My ex didnt’ touch me with a ten foot poll for my entire pregnancy, which was mortifying for me. Was I THAT bad?
    At least this time around, I can completely forget what has happened to my body in the past nine months while my husband makes sweet love to me :D. Despite the 40 extra pounds, the hot dog boobs, the giant bottom…he still finds me irresistible. What more does a girl need :)

  10. Official thanks for the pic of the boombox belt buckle :)

  11. Yup. Just yup to all of it. I admire that you were able to give up coffee. The only reason my selfish ass stopped drinking it for a few months this time was it made me puke.
    And if we ever manage to get together you must beg Z to do his impersonation of me having diarrhea. It is so awesome and horrifying I’m laughing just thinking about it.

    • It is deeply disturbing that while I have hoped to see you in person for a long time, and recently really started looking forward to meeting Z that it is THIS… this diarrhea impersonation that really sweetens the pot, as it were. :) Oh man, I love a poop joke.

  12. The blue vein. How I loathe the blue vein. But now I secretly relish the fact that I am not the only one with said blue vein. Mine shows up during pregnancy and still remains until I am done nursing. Sexy!

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