3/30/11 - I Love You Bears

I am deeply saddened and depressed by the stuffed animals in flower shops. This has always affected me but now that I'm pregnant, it's damn near unbearable. What is it about these bears?? The bigger, the more depressing. Their expectant faces and shiny plastic fur. Their little arms holding a red velvet heart. Their perpetual hope that someone will take them home. And when they are shoved ass-down into a gift basket and covered with plastic only to be peddled road-side by some sorry sap trying to make a living? The worst. I can't take it!
I was stopped at a red light in Eagle Rock yesterday, right in front of a flower shop and just through the door I saw a white bear about 4' high and 2 1/2' wide. It was gigantic and sitting on a white pedestal looking out into traffic with this forced smile on its face. I thought about how long he must have been sitting there. How dusty his snow white fur must have been and if they ever bothered to dust him off or cover him up. How someone might see this bear and want him, only to walk in and get a close look at the cobwebs that surely surround his shiny nose and eyes and then reject his happy face on the spot. I burst into tears. "I'm sorry bear!" And I'm talking REAL tears. Sobbing! I was only jolted back to reality when the car behind me laid on the horn because I had ignored the green light for so long, blathering in my car.
I hate stuffed animals for this reason. I think they should all cease to exist. I have an incredibly hard time not assigning human emotions to these stuffed creatures. And who needs them?? I mean, if some lady gets that giant white bear, what in the HELL is she going to do with it?? It will end up at Goodwill with all the rest of the I Love You Bears on the back shelf near the glassware, and then what?
It's too much to think about. I'll stop now.
Well, a few of you have requested a rack picture, and although this probably wasn't what you had in mind I wanted to show off how clever I can be. As I have mentioned in previous posts, my tits are on fire. FIRE, I tell you. I can't bear (omg!) it another second. So, I devised a way to deal with it and still get to walk around. X-small sports bra (my old size) + ice pack + headscarf = sweet relief!

Ahhh! Can't you just feel it's cooling powers!
(And look at that cleavage!)

3/24/2011 - Attack of the Body Snatcher

My little nugget here has finally figured out that the room it has been able to enjoy for so long is slowly (or not so slowly) coming to an end. As this baby gets bigger (and BOY is it bigger!) the space with which it used to swim with reckless abandon is now closing in fast. The way Baby J has decided to cope with this is what we might refer to as "living it up while you still can". Somersaults happen almost every hour on the hour and the newest thing it's learned to do is lodge some part of its body up under my ribcage just shy of my sternum. I can't really describe this feeling other than to say it's terribly uncomfortable. It feels like you have this MASSIVE burp coming on. A room-clearer. And just when you gear up for it...nothing. But the pressure still remains, like someone pausing in the middle of the upthrust while administering the Heimlich. And you just be careful not to force this pretend burp or you'll be back to square one, puking in your cupped hands.
I've also noticed this happens with my intestines. Baby J will wedge in at some point in my intestinal tract and I'll feel as though I have to pass gas like never before. I run from the room (of course I do not pass gas in front of SH, even though many people told me I'd "get over that" once I was pregnant. Not so!) only to discover it was never gas in the first place. What the hell!? I can feel it rolling over slowly, elbowing whatever it can on its slow flip and positioning itself in the worst position it can find. If this is a window into what's to come, I may not be joking about leaving for Palm Springs for the first year.
With all of these maternity pants that now make up 1/2 of my wardrobe, I am completely convinced I'm going to forget how to operate a zipper and button when the time comes. Getting dressed? Pull your pants up! Going to the bathroom? Pull your pants down! I feel like a 2 year old wearing Pull Ups! Try being sexy with elastic waist pants. Go ahead! The days of being undressed by my husband (even his eyes, let's be honest) are over. I mean does "Hook your thumbs into my elastic waist band and tug honey" sound sexy? Jesus! Now it's more like "Close your eyes...no wait, turn off the light, close your eyes and pretend you're a contestant on Double Dare and there's a million dollar pot on the line!"
Wait until you get a load of these picture. Holy bejezuz...

And just you wait! The best is yet to come!

I am the mother fucking walrus! It looks like an adult sized human head is trying to bust through my abdomen!
Sweet Husband actually said "Eh, the shadows make it look bigger than it is". The shadows! Ha! Isn't he a dear. Check out my poor little ribcage trying to simultaneously hold on to both its positioning and its dignity! As if to say "I will not be pushed any further!" Oh but I fear you will, dear ribcage. I fear you will.
I was reading in a book the other day (I'll just go ahead and quote this) "Women who have previously been worried about their body size may for once be reconciled with their larger shape and positively enjoying it. Some women become deeply attached to their growing bump and a little sad at the prospect of losing it." Losing it?? I almost lost my SANITY when I read that! I jabbed a sleeping SH in the ribs and yelled that entry at him. Enjoying it? Sad to see it go? You know what I see every time I look in the mirror? A hell of a lot of hard work ahead of me. I hope the gym allows tenants.
And, our last stop, Sarcasm Station!
You know what I love? When people ask me questions that I am in no way capable of answering. These usually come from gym members, but not always. Questions like;
So, when are you going on leave?
When are you coming back?
How long are you going to be out for?
Are you going to go through the birth without drugs?
People! Have I ever given birth before?? I have no idea! How could I?! What does it take to recover enough to jump around with weights like a crazy person? 2 weeks? 2 months? 2 years?? How long does it take to sit down and not jump up from the pain? I don't KNOW! But you know what question I'D like someone to answer for ME? How long after birth does your vagina feel as though you copulated with a hot curling iron? Riddle me that, batman!
JJ, out.

3/8/2011 - Mood Swing-a-ding-ding

Man, I thought I was moody with PMS! Whew! That was NOTHING!
It seems as though I like to *try* to start fights with Sweet Husband over the most ridiculous things. I say try because, if you know him, there really is no fighting with him. He's mellow, laid back and utterly impossible to get riled up. Me? I'm riled up over everything. The Tupperware lid not staying on the shelf where I threw it with all my might. A bag of peas falling out of the freezer after I stuff it full of food. Cat hair on the bed sheets (my cat does sleep with me, under the covers, after all). I'm sure all my neighbors think I'm losing my marbles because all they hear is "Seriously?! Why do I have to be the only one to PUT STAMPS ON ENVELOPES!!?" Silence "No I DON'T want you to take it over, I just don't want to be the ONLY ONE to stamp an envelope!" Silence "FORGET it! We ran out anyway." Though I suppose they could think I'm talking on the phone.
My favorite response of SH's to my moods has to be "So this is what's going to do it today?" in a really calm, sweet tone. As if any of the reasons I get angry lately hold any sort of water.
Not that it's all bad. They're called swings for a reason. Sure it swings into Evil Town, but eventually it HAS to swing back to Life's Great!
Like the other night. Not fifteen minutes after I went through a tirade about dirty dishes being "all over" the kitchen (we were in the process of making dinner), SH makes a comment about not wanting to eat any more Oriental rice crackers and I laugh so hard I cry. Seriously 10 minutes of nonstop laughter.
Come to think of it, he might think I'm crazy too.
More on my moods, a couple at the gym has taken it upon themselves recently to send me an email after each and every class one or both of them attends to breakdown their opinion on my state of mind. Now, if THAT doesn't help, I don't know what will. I get emails like;
"Whoa. We could tell you were a little frustrated tonight!", or
"I missed your class but *Blank* said you were all smiles. Nice to have you back!", or
"I noticed you were correcting my form a lot today. I guess you were in a bad mood."
JESUS LORD SHUT THE HELL UP!!!!!
Maybe since they are apparently ALWAYS in fabulous moods, I'll start critiquing their outfits.
"I can't help but notice you've worn the same bike shorts not only all week but ever since 1983."
"Lime green with evergreen? Interesting choice."
"Are your socks supposed to lay open at the ankles?"
"Are you familiar with the term 'camel toe'?"
I'm sick of it, I tell you!
Just did a pregnancy yoga tape a friend gave me and now I'm actually feeling all sorts of peaceful, so I guess that's it for the bitch session today!
Namaste!

3/7/2011 - Pain In The Side!

Well gang, it's official. I'm a god damn whale. My belly has popped out and I can no longer fudge it. Even my bigger jeans don't fit. I was in the bath yesterday reading a magazine and having the time of my life when I looked down and saw my swollen belly protruding out of the water like a sad little patch of land marooned after a hurricane. I'm still not used to this whole business and I doubt I will be. June can't come soon enough! I find myself throwing a longing eye toward every Cross-Fit, MMA or Pilates studio I pass, wishing I could pop in and join the sweaty masses. I design entire workouts only to get to the weight room and realize I can't perform half the activities due to their need of a prone position. I look at the fitness magazines that come in to my mailbox month after month and sigh at the physiques that used to look like a slightly better version of me. Now they're so far out of my ball park, a carrier pigeon couldn't reach them. Yes folks, fat girl depression has officially hit me. :(
Here's the evidence (I also included a front shot for the most offense)

BUT march forward we shall (mainly due to a lack of any other choice). I've discovered another thing about pregnancy that nobody seems to remember but haunts me on a daily basis. Side stitch-like pains. You know how you sometimes get side stitches when you're running a long distance? We were taught in gym class to "walk it out" and raise our arms above our heads or breathe deeply into the area while pushing it with our fingers. Yeah, well imagine that, minus the running. In fact, minus any modicum of activity. I lift up my butt in bed to turn over BAM! horrible stitch. I take the 7 steps out my door necessary to reach my mailbox BAM! stitch. I laugh too hard...you got it. Stitch. And they're MISERABLE. Residing somewhere between the lighting speed of a stitch's first hit to the lasting pain of a charlie horse.
Here's something else sexy for all of you still considering this nonsense. I discovered on Saturday that I now pee when I sneeze. SH took me to Starbucks for an iced tea and as we're pulling out of the parking lot on our way to what I believe will be a lovely day at the park - "AaaCHOOOO! *gasp* OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!" It was nice he didn't laugh but instead offered up a helpful suggestion "Check the glove box, I think there may be some napkins in there" then turned his head while I used them. This I was warned about but was sure it wouldn't come on until at LEAST month 8. I will be buying Poise pads at my next opportunity. Pregnant and an octogenarian, apparently. Awesome.
I'm really not experiencing anything that would ever make me say "Being pregnant was amazing" as I've heard so many women say. To me. On a daily basis. Everywhere. Not "having a baby come out after dealing with all that bullshit was amazing", no. The PREGNANCY was amazing. I'm just not sure why this is great. The belly rubs? The extra attention from strangers? I'm really not sure why anyone does this more than once. It's like that scary ass roller coaster your brother (thank you, A) talks you into at the amusement park. You're super super scared but he's calling you a pussy and he's 5 years younger than you, so what are you going to do? You muster every last ball in your arsenal, hop on try not to shit yourself all the way up the hill. Half way down that hill you fall somewhere between blacking out, complete hysteria and throwing up. When you finally get off the blasted machine, his little face is exuberant. "Wasn't that awesome??? I told you! Want to do it again???". You sit and stare at him for a moment wondering if you could kill him right there without your parents knowing. Then you punch him in the stomach and turn, feeling only slightly better as you head to go get yourself a funnel cake.