As you read this, I’ll be at my monthly parasite analysis appointment – most likely rockin’ a pair of stirrups while up to my elbows in medical professionals and alien-examining equipment. Technically, I guess they’ll be up to their elbows in me.
But as this whole parasite incubation thing continues, I keep thinking about those cliches you always hear about pregnancy…and suddenly understanding their origins in a whole new light.
Like, take for example, “She’s got a bun in the oven.” I always assumed that was just a cute way to refer to the yeasty tiny thing growing to it’s crusty potential in a uterus. In other words, I always focused on the whole “bun” part of the saying. Now? It’s clearly more about the “oven.” The overwhelmingly relentless, HOT oven. That I can’t escape. Because I’m the oven. And unlike the one in my kitchen, no one has vacuumed me lately. Cue smoke alarm.
Or what about that whole “barefoot and pregnant” thing? I assumed that was some sort of economic or social commentary on rural Appalachia, from which my daddy came. Nope. Apparently the feet of pregnant chicks swell. And grow. Sometimes a whole size. Like all at once. Like last week, for example.
So just to recap, I now lack pants AND shoes that fit. Fortunately I don’t miss them much because I’m sweating like James Frey on Oprah’s studio couch.
In other news, I’m fairly confident “you’re glowing” is what people say when they fear it’s inappropriate to say, “Are you sure you aren’t carrying that thing in your tits?”
Oh and I Sprocketed again today – this time all over Gaga’s face.
This is terrifying. Just plain terrifying. Someone told me pregnant ladies sometimes grow new teeth, too. It would be sweet if you grew a tooth on your forehead or something.
That is just bizarre. I might have to give up growing horns and a beard to focus on more teeth.
You ARE the oven? Is that anything like “I am the walrus”?
Wait! Are you a TOASTER oven? That means the parasite is actually toast! YEAH TOAST!!!
I think my vagina is going to be toast. And not in the good way.
Hey, it might not be toast. It have super powers and then you can produce vagina bubbles from hell!
you know, I’ve heard there were recreational uses for vacuums but thought they were primarily male ones. I’ll get with my wife and let you know how that works out.
oh, and I’ve been a principle beneficiary of the pregnancy titty fairy and was……happy about it. just sayin.
Do you need special attachments? Never mind, I’m not sure I really want to know.
Oh man. I’m envisioning that scene from “Alien” right now with all the “AAARGH!” and “GGRRRRRRGGGG” and bloody mayhem. And that’s just the exam! Your poor feet/belly/tits. Having a tiny lifeform take over is just plain rude!
…and now I’m growing a cock. It just gets weirder.
For a second, I read “up to my elbows in medical professionals” as “medical professionals up to their elbows”
Was very worried for a minute there.
There was a little from column a, a little from column b.
Do you have the linea nigra yet? Hmmm? Google it. Sorry. Be thankful it’s not lingua nigra. Also, unlike your larger feet, the linea nigra will go away. Fun!
No. And so far my nipples are still nipple colored. But I did get that mask stuff during chemo, so I think odds are high that stuff will happen. I should have stuck with a new tattoo.
Gosh, pregnancy sounds like so much fun. I’m sort of sad that I missed the experience now. Oh sorry, that should have read “glad”.
There’s also some validity behind “sympathy weight.” I turned into a fat bastard while my first son was in the oven.
Fat bastard, you will always be a svengali to us. Also, sympathy weight is the best gift you can give a pregnant lady.
Rocco is dieting. Every pound he drops ends up on me. I might kill him.
Make sure you are keeping a list to throw in your kid’s face later on in a fit of rage and in hopes of inducing guilt. The tool of guilting your kid is one all mothers should have.
I’m embroidering the list for a wall hanging.
You need to go ahead an ask your OBGYN to vacuum while he’s in there today. What the hell are you paying him for? Shiiit.
I saw a her. And she was all, “I’m married. I’m not cleaning anything else today, dammit.”
Thank you for reminding me how glad I am that I got that shit over with when I was still too young to know better. Because Lu is here making it seem fun and cute when I know that’s not the case. Except for the fact that she has to wear flip flops with everything.
Oh yeah, and she has the linea negra. Its okay though, if you were here Mike would just call you “fatty” like he does her. That’s some good parenting right there. So is me high-fiving him.
PS- Yay! For boy parasites! You better make sure he has Bieber hair.
There ain’t nothing cute about me and pregnancy. I think only dainty girls can do cute and pregnant. I’m all about bulbous and bitchy.
I was a sweaty, disheveled swollen slob with sausage ankles.
I still am, but it was worse when I was pregnant.
I hadn’t noticed. Then again, I’m always distracted by your boobs.
You can always request they vacuum the parasite out at the end. My nephew was a vacuum extraction and he looked remarkably like Dan Ackroyd in The Coneheads for about 3 weeks. For some reason my sister was not impressed that I kept calling him ‘Beldar’, woman has no sense of humour.
Dude. In would have had to construct a mini replica of the set and take photos.
Welcome to the League, you Funny Bitch! And BTW, “rural Appalachia, from which my daddy came” — where’d you git you that thar high-falutin’ grammar, girl? : )
Don’t forget your daddy’s daddy… then his daddy before that, etc.. I move for a “Country Roads, Family Reunion Nascar Revival”!
(Side Note: I’m originally from West Virginia)
Here’s the deal: The entire point of pregnancy is to bring a a woman back to her true primal essence, which is naked and on her back and howling. Most women wait until labor to manifest this, but it is your perogative to do so at any time.
Hey there, I stopped by because I saw what you wrote about me on Absence of Alternatives site when she was trying to dry hump my bruised groin after my heart attack. Sorry your all horrible pregnant with swollen feet and junk. That sucks, and it’s fixing to be summer. YUCK. I wont tell you your glowing, because yeah, that’s what nuclear power plants due in Japan after earthquakes. My feet went from a 7 to an 11 with my first kid. You probably don’t need to hear that huh? Then went back done after I had her. She’s a Dr now? Means I will be in an awesome nursing home soon if I don’t die from the next heart attack. But seriously good luck with the entire “having a baby” thing. Thanks for thinking about me and junk when you were busy trying not to stab people from your hormones. You are totally welcome at my place anytime. ( I will hide the sporks first though).
HOLY CRAP I swear I can type. I just saw that post. my keyboard must be broken, wait wait, oh yeah I just had a heart attack and I am on bed rest. can I use that as an excuse for not being able to type? OMG that is horrible. so embarrassed.
Of course it is. I’m just glad you’re ok.
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