Tuesday, March 18, 2008

Do you see what I see?

In the dressing room at Target today, I got a full-on 360 of my pants-clad-butt.

Now, I've always known that I can err on the side of curvy. Once I stop paying attention, the rear-end groweth and the hips spreadeth. But sweet fetus jesus! Had I been aware things have spiraled this far I WOULD NOT have had that second tuna fish sandwich yesterday.

It's been about 3 years worth of denial over my belly. And the way I see it: So be it. It housed and nurtured and grew two immensely fabulous baby girls and it's earned it's place (besides, on a good day, after a goooood BM, I can suck that shit right the hell in with none the wiser). But man! My ass is out of control.

Though never a big girl, I developed a nice, hearty eating disorder in my early twenties anyway. Really gross. Really effective. Really tenacious. That bitch stuck around in fits and starts till my early thirties. It's a non-issue any more and bringing it up now only serves the purpose to relate how, shall we say: mis-guided I can be about my womanly form.

Kind of alternate universe, actually. While I used to see a 'fat girl' who should be thin, now I see a 'thin girl' who in reality has far more than her share of junk in the trunk.

This will be taking some time to get used to.

Oh, I didn't buy the pants.

Sunday, March 16, 2008

Can anyone tell me...

Where/when/why the whole phenomenon of complete and total vulva shaving/waxing pre-delivery came from?

It's bizarre. I can't recall the last time I saw a nice, hairy labia; and frankly, it's shocking.

These bare vaginas are out there for all to ponder. Your husband/boyfriend/mother/father (this, in and of itself, is its own blog topic)/sister/grandmother/bff all see me and the doctor and the tech and all the other nurses seeing your shiny, smooth coochie.

What's the point? You can't see it, it doesn't get in the way (really, it's HAIR. It PARTS.) and it is so not offensive. In fact: It BELONGS there.

If were were shooting pregnancy porn, I'd understand. And maybe this is why some women do this, far be it from me to question a kink, but so many? So often? Is there something I'm missing?

If this keeps up, I'm going to start a petition.

Friday, March 14, 2008

Psssst! Universe:

I better not be pregnant.

Thursday, March 13, 2008

Hey, baby!

I go back to work tonight after something like 5 nights off. In. A. Row.
It was my attempt at normalizing a sleep schedule, spending some sweet, simple time with my girls and CELEBRATING MY HUSBAND'S 40TH.

Well, at least I got the last one right. Whoooo, baby. UNH.

I can't sleep for shee-it. I've been premenstrual like you read about. New equation: mommy=monster.

Good news? Gonna (hope, hope) get my mitts on some brand new baby.

They're sooooo wet and so wiggly sometimes that I have to clutch them to me so they don't fly out of my arms by the time I get them to the warmer. I work in a really MEDICAL hospital with a lot of RULES so these babes more often then not get to spend their first minutes of life with me while I suss 'em out, take their vitals and (I * hate* this part) give them their shots and eye ointment.

What a guilty fucking pleasure. Kinda sick, kinda sweet that I'm usually baby talking at them before their mamas are... oooof, acutally feeling a bit sick about that as I type it out (or maybe that's the coffee w/ Coffee Mate I'm slugging?).

Well, this isn't going as planned... I wanted to gush about this MY MOST FAVORITIST PART OF MY JOB and instead, I pretty much feel like shit.

hurumph. That sucked.

Monday, March 10, 2008

Go Outside

go outside, what will you see?
Green leaves upon a tree

go inside, what will you find?
A bitten apple, on its rind.

go outside, what will you see?
Green leaves upon a tree & maybe even a canopy

go inside, what will you find?
A bitten apple on its rind or maybe even a young child's mind

by Ruby, age 7

Saturday, March 8, 2008


WARNNG: Rant Ahead

It's a mystery to me how I developed an innate sense of this; my parents were kind of, irrational, and didn't offer much in the way of a delicate journey down the path of righteousness. They yelled a lot. My mom was a spanker. My dad was an OVER REACTOR. I mean, they did fine. But let's be clear and state for the record, that there would be no emulating, m'kay?

Along the way, I got it anyway: You give, you get. And that most certainly applies in the area of respect. This would work like a charm for me for months and years and then BA-BOOM, an asshole would appear on the horizon and my magical bubble of reciprocity would burst and shower me in a soapy mess of disappointment. High school principals, mortgage brokers, babysitters, friends, managers, nursing school instructors... all could offend. But hey! I'm all freakin' positive and shit and I could always find someone, something to bring the love right back home and once again prance down my merry path of blissful alltogetherness.

So what the fuck is wrong with OB's??!?!?!?? I have never. In. My. Life. Met a sorrier bunch of I'mbettherthanyous. Is this a doctor thing? Is that god complex crap correct? Does this lot really, really believe that strutting around in gummy clogs and silly white coats full o' 'tude means something?

We're the ones caring for your patients, watching, waiting, caring. We speak to your patients like people! Ha! We explain, demystify, comfort. Why you gotta be such a dick?

The next time you tell your patients (in front of me, no less) that the nurse made a mistake, I'm going to tell her that the reason you have 17 tubes up her vagina & 37 monitors hooked up to her and her baby is not because you care, it's because you're afraid of getting SUED. Deal?