in other words, my body is an asshole daily.
i'm currently sitting at the corner café BY MY DAMN SELF drinking a whole milk cappuccino and contemplating going back to the counter so that i can eat a freshly baked biscuit with an inappropriate amount of clotted cream slathered on it and allowing a gluttonous amount of sweet raspberry jam to drip down the sides of my mouth as i gorge myself on simple carbohydrates. a good look it will be, indeed. plus, i wholeheartedly believe that edie cooper deserves biscuits and real butter and sweet things. once she comes out of the womb, she won't get them again for quite a while. just organic boob juice which isn't as much fun as biscuits and butter, in my humble opinion. poor girl.
with that justification, i say fuck it.
i deserve it, too, surely. i mean, i'm growing a human and doing my best (most days) to raise a two and a half year old, after all. a two year old, who i might add, is going through a phase of screaming at the top of her lungs for no apparent reason. mariah carey she is not. i'm beginning to suspect that she may be tone deaf.
i'm going for it. i'm going to eat the damn biscuit with a supreme amount of gusto.
i'm sitting at a table beside a mother and her precocious five or six-year-old daughter who appears to have cut her own bangs as short as she possibly could. watching their interactions and the 410 questions the little girl asks her mother within the three minutes i
i'm embarrassed to admit that i'm also listening to the new kanye west song, "only one" on repeat. i usually despise everything about kanye but, man, this song gives me all of the feelings about being a mama to my babies and leaving a legacy of self-acceptance and grace to them. i'm pregnant, you know, so it doesn't take much to give me all the feelings. insurance commercials? expected. but kanye west? unexpected. unappreciated, even. he usually evokes other not-so-pleasant feelings out of me. like rage. and disgust. and the urge to bitch-slap someone within arm's reach.
i'm so close to my third and final trimester. which is... unsettling. how in the actual fuck are we so much closer to the end than the beginning already? give me more time, please.
speaking of my big ol' bump and lumps... up until this week, i've really enjoyed my pregnant body. with marlo, i felt so unlike myself, so uncomfortable, and everything about my then-pregnant body felt incredibly awkward. i was convinced that i could postpone the inevitable. i was determined. but here's the thing about something being inevitable: you can't postpone it. you can't fight the expansion of your body when you're incubating a quickly-growing fetus and you waste your time and energy even trying. this pregnancy, i've put forth great effort to embrace the changes my body so quickly went through and, up until this week, i really loved it. i mean who doesn't want to be curvier in all of the right places? (it also doesn't hurt that joe is completely obsessed with the pregnant version of me. i swear he's either constantly humping my leg or talking about when he can hump my leg again. he's like a jack russell terrier. it could be far worse, i guess.)
back to the point.
jump to wednesday when i kept seeing photos pop up on social media of all of these skinny pregnant non-heifers who appear to have the energy of a tween and i, admittedly, lost my fucking mind. i looked in the mirror and saw everything that i didn't like about my ever-growing body and i let the harder aspects of pregnancy (the peeing myself, the leaking of boobs, the weight, the constant aching, the appetite of a truck driver, etc.) overrule the beauty that lies within growing life and being healthy and gaining weight in preferred places. (i blame these perfect places for all of the leg humping. side note: what is it with men and their obsession with pregnant women?)
so, yes, i had a few fits of tears this week. a couple of pity parties held in my honor. a few moments of self-loathing that i'm not proud of.
moving on.
one very bright side to pregnancy i've discovered recently is that my laugh completely transforms when i'm pregnant. it becomes so uninhibited and genuine and hearty. i laugh so hard i go silent and can't breathe, the only reason you even know that i'm laughing is because my face is contorted, my nose is scrunched up while i snort repeatedly, and my belly is shaking like a certain white-bearded man of jolliness. joe thinks it's hysterical (and maybe even cute?) and tries to make me laugh as much as possible. naturally, more leg humping ensues.
all of that just to say that life is good.
and i'm laughing really hard almost every day.
and considering how out of breath i am afterwards, i'm getting a ton of cardio.
and my boobs have never looked better. except when they're leaking, of course.
and my husband can't keep his hands off of me. except when i pee myself, of course.
and i get to spend my days with marlo who, minus the screaming, is my personal daily dose of magic.
and i'm growing a big and healthy baby girl who we all can't wait to meet.
yes. life is good.
very, very good.
and so is this biscuit.
5 comments:
Christine, you are F-ing HILARIOUS! I read your blog often, as I am a mother of a 2 year old too, but I haven't ever felt as compelled to come out and tell you just how damn funny you are! Your writing is excellent! Keep up the great work. Made my day!
♥Annie
it's like you took my thoughts and put them on your blog. well done.
i always enjoy your blogs!! and i am sure baby edie really enjoyed that biscuit. so don't deny her the good stuff yet...lol
Fantastic as always lady :)
Love!
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