Monday, February 14, 2011

2/14/2011 - The Itchy and Scratchy Show

Happy Valentines Day, fools! Aw...look at all you out there. Getting to have normal person sex. Aren't you so lucky?! Enjoy it just a little bit more tonight, for me (please excuse me while I grab for yet another pillow to sleep with between my legs).
Well everyone, I'm experiencing a whole new...sensation...that nobody bothered to warn me about. Horrible, terrible, no good boob itch. That's right. Boob itch. Big time. Not only are they lumpy and hot as hell (wanna know what I did Saturday night? Iced my boobs down on the couch. All. Night. Long.), they also feel as if they've gotten a terrible case of scabies. I scratch and I scratch and I scratch. By the end I might just scratch them clean off! I scratch in private, definitely, in public, for sure! Bigger boobs are certainly NOT worth this trauma, I can assure you. But look as I may, NO pregnancy book or blog talks about itchy boobs! None. Pregnant ladies of yore, did you HONESTLY forget this? I just can't buy it. It is destined to haunt me for the rest of my days. Four more months of this bullshit? Heaven help me.
Oh! Exciting news! At my last doctor appointment I was put in the SAME room as before and had the presence of mind to take out my phone and snap a picture of the offending illustration. Here it is. Enjoy.
I mean HONESTLY! How sexual is that??? Look at those eye lashes! Her fingers nervously scratching in anticipation! This is ridiculous. I pointed it out to my doctor and she said "Yeah. Older male doctors, they're just sometimes...lacking a bit of sensitivity when it comes to women." I'll say!
Since I ended my last blog a little, well, angry, I'll end this one on a cute note. SH and I went to our favorite local sushi joint the other day (yes all, I'm eating sushi) and the chef was so jazzed about my pregnancy, he made us a special dessert
That is me and my pregnant belly...what is at my feet is anyone's guess. I just hope it isn't triplets.

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

2/2/2011 - SO Glamorous And the Pervert Escapades!

Sweet Husband makes breakfast for me every Sunday. No joke, it was in his vows. Most of the time I get to actually order up what I want and this past Sunday worked just as such. So while my adorable mate was busy cooking crepes and turkey sausage in the kitchen, I was reading the paper in bed surrounded by the cats. Ain't life grand?
After breakfast I wandered into the kitchen to take the first of many pills that I now pop during the day. SH was doing the breakfast dishes (I know, what?! LUCKY!) and I threw three multicolored pills in my mouth, followed by a swig of water. I should mention that after the whole first trimester barf-a-thon, my gag reflex is bit more...touchy...than normal, so once the pills hit the back of my throat (before I swallowed them) I felt a gag coming on. This isn't unusual. Almost every day this happens and I just swallow through it. Well two of the three pills went down and the third got caught in the gag. This pill was L-Carnitine and if you've never taken it, it's large. And white. And coated in almost nothing. So it got caught, and it stuck. Thankfully I usually take a breath in before I swallow pills so I had a little air behind it and I coughed. Only it lodged it much more fully than the first time. Now I was panicking. I was all out of air, I couldn't get any in due to the pills strategic placement and I began thinking about all I'd learned about administering the Heimlich on a pregnant woman. But how would I communicate this to SH, who had taken a break from the dishes to rush over to my red face? Thinking back, he did have a dish towel in his hand, though I'm not sure why he grabbed that when running to my side? Thankfully, my old friend the Puke Monster paid a return visit and brought up the water (not the other pills or breakfast thank GOD) I had just swallowed down with such great force that I barfed that pill up right on the counter and right in front of SH. There my face sat, inches from the saliva-y puddle of water coughing and gasping while SH was rubbing my back and saying (loudly) "GET IT OUT! GET IT OUT!" It was out. But he was a great cheerleader. I laid on the floor for a few minutes and cried for two reasons. One, I almost died and two, I just threw up in front of my husband. So glamorous, indeed!
Last little tidbit and then I must depart. If you've followed this blog for more than two posts, or know me personally, the fact that I will NEVER go to a male "lady doctor" shouldn't surprise you. Here's a story to bring this point fully home.
Last week when I went to the doctor due to that uncomfortable feeling, I was put in a different room than I normally am. As I was waiting, I was looking around the walls at the pictures, drawings and diplomas this specific doctor had lined his (HIS) walls with. Don't panic, I was seeing a woman, but using this dude's room, apparently. Anyhow, my eyes focused on a drawing of a lady frog. She didn't have any clothes on but she did have lipstick, rouge and fluttery eyelashes which is how I came to understand she was a lady. Anyway, she was in a room eerily similar to the one I was sitting in and she was laying on the table (that I was on) with a white blanket over her and her legs up in the stirrups (not me at all). The illustrator had made quite a point of her fluttery eyelashes, drawing in movement for extra effect. Her mouth was open and smiling flirtatiously and a bubble was drawn with the sentence "I'm READY Dr. Brooks!"
ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?! First of all *gag* WHO THE HELL DREW THAT? A friggin' PATIENT? A FEMALE patient? Second, what kind of big-headed HAND JOB does this guy think he is! "Oh, I'm Dr. Brooks and I'm so charming the ladies can't wait for me to get a hold of my speculum and ram it into their vaginas. I'm like a GOD!"
I've included this link to his picture. Do NOT be fooled by his grandfatherly looks. He's not one of us.
WHO finds this charming? What lady sits there waiting for this douche bag to enter thinking flirtatiously sinful thoughts?? I bet he doesn't wear gloves. I bet he kicks cats. I've made up a whole story about him in my head and all I can say is I feel terrible for his poor wife. I hope to god I never see this pervert in the hallways because I'm pretty sure I won't be able to control myself from smacking him right across the face. Asshole.