Well hello, blogger friends.
The lack of updates have been well intended, I assure you.
The temporary hiatus and abrupt cessation of my brilliant "April Challenge" were
brought on by a terrifying, unexpected, and life-altering event....
|you totally thought someone died, didn't you?|
Yeah, that's right.
I have a tiny 2.5 inch human squirming around in my uterus.
Uncomfortable with lady-part terminology? Best get used it it, bubba.
'Cuz that shiz is going to be all sorts of up in my blog posts for the next....well, likely for the next 47 years. Or until the internet drowns in its own existence.
Whichever comes first.
That's basically why I suddenly stopped my April Challenge.
It was pretty annoying, dieting.
I didn't mind much.
Now I get to eat whatever I want.
And by that I mean I basically eat whatever doesn't make me want to throw up when I think about it.
Process of elimination has become my ally.
What sounds good for lunch today....
Mr. Goodcents chicken alfredo pasta?
I could not puke that up.
Unhealthy pasta it is.
The next asshat that writes an article about pregnant women eating healthy can drown in a pool of butter.
Because I could not give less shits about what I eat.
Because I could not give less shits about what I eat.
My favorite new rule: some sort of food actually sounds good? EAT IT.
And to be fair, I lost weight between my last two appointments, so clearly I haven't been pigging out more than the average preggo.
Since telling people that I've finally managed to get knocked up, I've noted six main questions I get asked consistently:
1. How are you feeling?
This one is a double-edged sword; do they really want to know how I'm feeling or are they just being polite? Me, of course, being the type of person who says whatever is on her mind, goes ahead with the first assumption and tells the asker exactly how I'm feeling: super crappy. Which immediately makes me feel like a giant douche-copter, but hey - don't ask a question if you don't want an honest answer.
2. How far along are you?
I only find this one to be weird because there's really nothing they can do with this information. What are they going to say, "oh, well you don't look that far along"?
I guess they might say that. To which I would probably reply by simply throwing a rock at them. Because if there's one thing I've learned in these eleven weeks and five days of being knocked up, it's that every single day counts.
So don't act surprised if, when you ask me this question, I respond with "11 weeks, 5 days, 16 hours and 42 minutes."
I prefer to be precise.
3. When are you due?
See now, this actually makes more sense than #2, if only for the reason that the questioner can say to themselves after, "so that's when she won't be so fat and cranky any more! Oh, and the baby will be here, I guess."
It's on this list because, for some odd reason, this question often coincides with the latter.
Me: I'm Pregnant!
Them: WOW!!! How far along are you?!
Me: 12 weeks, 4 days, 3 hours and 26 minutes.
Them: [admirably disregarding my blatant accuracy] So when are you due?
Me: [silent pause, followed by a long exhale, followed by...] December 5th.
But you're talking to a girl who can barely add double-digit numbers in her head, so I'm not one to judge.
4. Are you finding out the sex?
First off, this is no one's business. Just want to throw that out there. But it's, like, the MAIN question I've been asked.
That's right. Even before HowareyoufeelingHowfaralongareyouWhenareyoudue, they're just itching to judge me for being either a)crazy for wanting to be surprised or b)boring for wanting to know.
There is literally no way to break middle ground there. Other than pushing a baby out of your lady parts, only to find out that your sono-tech was a complete moron and you now have to dress your precious little boy in a pink frock that you didn't really even want to put on your supposed "little girl" in the first place. Embarrassing.
5. Do you want a boy or a girl?
I find myself incredibly offended when people ask me this. Don't feel bad if you're guilty of asking this one; I'm not sure if I'm offended because I think it's rude for people to assume I want one sex more than the other, or because I feel like a craptastic mother for not giving two turds about it.
And God forbid I actually say, "I really don't care" because they just don't believe me.
They may not say it, but I can see it in their squinty, little judgey eyes.
All in all, I really, really don't care what we have. I think both sexes have their pluses and minuses.
6. What are you craving?
I don't see this one as being invasive or annoying, just more...well, disappointing when I give them the answer. Because really, I haven't been craving anything. Other than ice cream. Which I don't think I've been "craving," so much as allowing myself to eat it with the rationale of "I'm have a GD baby and I'll eat ice cream if I want it!"
I have yet to wake up in the middle of the night to stir my husband and insist that he go to Dillon's to grab me pickles and peanut butter. That sounds effing tragic.
Plus, my husband would probably club me over the head. And I wouldn't necessarily blame him.
As a summary, here are the answers to any questions you may be having:
Due Date: December 5th
Today I am: 11 weeks, 5 days [4 hours, 6 minutes, 13 seconds.....]
Yes, I have been a crazy hormonal lady.
No, I have not been running.
Yes, I finally found a doctor that doesn't suck balls.
Yes, I have had every pregnancy symptom up to and including: nausea, migraines, insomnia, back pain, weird dreams, and incredibly real thoughts of killing my husband for putting me in this state.
No, I have not had any weird cravings. Other than for David Boreanz, but that's nothing out of the ordinary.
Yes, my average bedtime is 8:30.
Yes, this is currently how I'm wearing my pants:
No, I do not want to hear about how terrible your birth was, how many weeks overdue you were, or how much sleep I am NOT going to get once the baby gets here. I'll deal with that shit when I have to, and not a minute before.
So, now that the cat's out of the bag I will be updating you with my hilarious pregnancy accounts. Or ranting about people who have annoyed me that day. It's gonna be a fuuuuun ride, kids.
Join me, wontcha? ;)