On Etiquette

Let me preface this by saying, I understand that the majority of outsiders are excited by the sight of a pregnant bitch. They're curious, they want to make small talk about the pregnancy and impending baby, and that's fine, I suppose.

I've never been one of those people. I don't care about your pregnant ass or your impending shit machine. I won't try to talk to you about how your pregnancy is going, how you're feeling, your excitement level, and so forth.

I don't even mind these sorts of questions here and there, but on the daily gets on a fatty's nerves after a while. I'm not sure if it's those hormones everyone likes to talk about, or if it's my general personality of not wanting to talk to people that's making me so irritable, but I'm really trying to maintain my grace and be friendly about the inquiries. It's all a part of my plan to not be such a bitch.

There is one thing I will not stand for however, and I'd say at least 90% of people with a brain in their head should know this. Whether a chick is pregnant or just plain large and in charge, you never, ever say to her: "Wow, it looks like you're going to pop any day now!" Especially when said chick still has two months to go before expelling the occupant of her gut. Yes, being knocked up leads one to have a giant gut, it's obvious to everyone, especially the person with the gut. Whether a pregnant chick actually looks good or not, she still feels like a huge whale and incredibly unattractive. She doesn't want to hear about how big her gut is. Come on people, have the decency to talk about her behind her back like everyone else.

I know that I'm having a good pregnancy, weight-wise. I'm not a huffamoose. I'm eight months knocked up and have gained roughly 15 pounds, all baby related. My face isn't fat, nothing is swollen yet. I still look like me, but with a basketball under my sweater. I look fairly decent I suppose, as far a knocked up girls go, but in my pregnant head, I'm a whale, I feel like a whale and I don't want anyone commenting on my gut. I know this is completely irrational, but being irrational is one of the perks of being knocked up, right?

Finally, it's said that Leos love to be in the spotlight, and love attention. I myself am a Leo (just barely) I really ought to be a Cancer. One of the few Leo traits I possess is that I love my hair, it is my centerpiece, it's long and lustrous and I know it's gorgeous. With that being said, I hate being the center of attention, like most Leos. Being knocked up has unfortunately made me the center of attention. People will look at my gut instead of my face while talking to me, they'll come at me and try to feel my fetus, they're always asking about him, what he's doing, what's going on, what's happening. People have told me that once he's born, all the attention will go directly to him, and no one will bother with me anymore, so I shouldn't be upset when the attention shifts. You know what I say? GOOD! Let the kid have all the attention! I'm looking forward to being left alone. At least I won't have to field any more baby questions.

On Working with Morning (All-Day) Sickness

Anyone who tells you that "morning" sickness is only relegated to the morning is full of shit. That might be the case for some people, but for a lot of other ladies, myself included, that shit lasts ALL DAY!

I was lucky enough to feel sick pretty much all day every day for the first 3 months or so. I cursed J and I cursed my unborn son, and I cursed my surging hormones. I spent a lot of time on the couch when I could. I went to bed at 8:00pm and slept for 14 hours. I rested my head on my desk a lot. It sucked.

However, that finally seemed to pass. I felt human again and less like a zombie. It really was true, you do start to feel better and get a little more energy in your second trimester. I only felt sick occasionally, which I could deal with. I stopped plotting to suffocate J in his sleep with a pillow.

Yesterday though, was a real humdinger. I seriously thought I was going to die. I was thinking, great, I'm going to die curled up on my bathroom floor with my cat and dog staring at me. All I wanted was some fresh air and I couldn't even drag myself to a window or a door to stick my head out, but oh shit, I had to go to work.

Normally, if I feel this bad, I might shoot my boss a text asking to come in after my crappiness has passed, and he'd oblige because he's a pretty nice guy. But, he's on a much needed vacation, so I absolutely HAD to work no matter what. I dragged my sorry ass in and plopped down at my desk and hoped for the best. It was a busy day, people stopped in which I had to pretend to be happy to see and not look like death warmed over. My favorite part of the day came when a previous client came in looking for a house for her son just as I was preparing the leave to get a little bit of food to stick in my gob. For some reason, I decided to take her our to few local places, thinking, this will only take half an hour, tops! Boy was I wrong.

Needless to say, I had to suck it up and make like I felt great even though all I truly wanted to do was go home and fall down on my couch with my fur babies and wait for the sickness to pass. And that my friends, is why certain knocked up chicks are bad ass.

Happy Friday.