Apparently not only am I now wearing a sign that says "give me whack job advice" and "tell me horror stories involving dozens of stitches and neonatal intensive care units", but also "while you're at it, why don't you ask me if I'm getting an episiotomy, especially if you're male and not on intimate terms with my anatomy?". I've had three men in as many weeks bring up this comfortable and appealing topic to me.
Since we're already toeing the perineal area, lets dive right in, shall we? (Be warned, the following paragraphs address a vulnerable, personal issue. I reserve the right to look askance at anyone who doesn't understand the line between blog-appropriate and face-to-face-discussion-appropriate. Meaning: don't ask me about my rear end at brunch.)
Thank god I read Belly Laughs by Jenny McCarthy. Besides being damn funny, she's the only pregnancy book author I've encountered (and there have been MANY...I'm an over-informer) who mentions the excessive hair growth. Back there. That's right- were it winter I wouldn't have to worry about my buttcrack catching cold. If I hadn't been prepared for such a phenomenon, I'd be frantically googling the possibility that I possess some sort of latent monkey gene.
I am only sharing this because a. its too funny not to, b. I feel like I need to spread the warning, and c. I want to find out if this is common or if its just me and Jenny with the new place to put braids.
A friend who's blog I love recently posted about her experience at her Brazilian wax appointment, wherein the aesthetician referred to her butt hair as "intricate" (weekendatdaddys.blogspot.com). I'll be addressing my problem in similar fashion soon and can't WAIT to hear what my practitioner says.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Pornstar In My Mind
Let me set the scene: Its about a week ago. I'm leaving Milwaukee to go to Washington Island (my future home in 3 short months) for the weekend and I'm feeling pretty hot. I still haven't gained any weight, my hair is longer and thicker and shinier than its been since I was 16, my skin is clear and, so I've been told, glowing, my boobs actually BOUNCE (a feeling this barely B-cup girl has never felt until now)...pregnancy is great! I'm practically a Victoria's Secret model. I decide to wear matching leopard print bra and underwear to enhance the Heidi Klum aura. I'm feeling confident. Sexy. Healthy. Even...THIN!
That is, until 6 hours later when I encounter a full-length mirror in Dave's bedroom clad only in aforementioned sexy separates. Lack of full-length mirror in my bedroom at home (my roommate has one but I don't exactly stroll into her bedroom in my underwear. Although I'm pretty sure thats what a fair percentage of the male population would like to think female roommates do in our spare time. That and hit each other with pillows in our communal shower) has precluded me from actually seeing the full monty in roughly two weeks. Let me tell you, two weeks is a looooong time in pregnant town. Long enough for my body to have completely morphed into SOMEONE ELSE'S BODY. Someone with hips (and an ass!) several inches wider than mine. Someone with a potbelly that doesn't suck in. And the jiggle. Oh god, the jiggle. Where did all this cellulite come from? I never had this much before. I may not have gained any weight, but the weight I already had packed its bags (with COTTAGE CHEESE) and relocated to new places.
Now I'm not under some misguided impression that it'll only be my abdomen that will change during pregnancy. I know I'll get stretch marks, more cellulite, hips will spread, blah blah blah. Nor do I hate the new body (completely). I just wasn't prepared for such a radical change in 2 weeks. And for everyone who says "just wait", I know that too. I realize the butt and hips will only get bigger, the cellulite jigglier, the potbelly enormous, and this great rack? Deflated and drooping. I know. But seeing it incrementally, each day's little change, makes it a lot easier to accept than all at once, okay?
Lesson learned: go into my roommate's bedroom in my underwear once in awhile.
That is, until 6 hours later when I encounter a full-length mirror in Dave's bedroom clad only in aforementioned sexy separates. Lack of full-length mirror in my bedroom at home (my roommate has one but I don't exactly stroll into her bedroom in my underwear. Although I'm pretty sure thats what a fair percentage of the male population would like to think female roommates do in our spare time. That and hit each other with pillows in our communal shower) has precluded me from actually seeing the full monty in roughly two weeks. Let me tell you, two weeks is a looooong time in pregnant town. Long enough for my body to have completely morphed into SOMEONE ELSE'S BODY. Someone with hips (and an ass!) several inches wider than mine. Someone with a potbelly that doesn't suck in. And the jiggle. Oh god, the jiggle. Where did all this cellulite come from? I never had this much before. I may not have gained any weight, but the weight I already had packed its bags (with COTTAGE CHEESE) and relocated to new places.
Now I'm not under some misguided impression that it'll only be my abdomen that will change during pregnancy. I know I'll get stretch marks, more cellulite, hips will spread, blah blah blah. Nor do I hate the new body (completely). I just wasn't prepared for such a radical change in 2 weeks. And for everyone who says "just wait", I know that too. I realize the butt and hips will only get bigger, the cellulite jigglier, the potbelly enormous, and this great rack? Deflated and drooping. I know. But seeing it incrementally, each day's little change, makes it a lot easier to accept than all at once, okay?
Lesson learned: go into my roommate's bedroom in my underwear once in awhile.
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