My list of things that I just can’t wait to do again once I serve le bebe with her eviction notice is increasing, day by day. Let’s examine the list:
1. Eat sushi. At this point, my brain and stomach and my very soul I tell you are clamoring together suuuuuuuuushhhhiiiiiii. suuuuuuuuushhhhiiiiiii.
a. See also—lunch meat, unheated.
2. Work out. Riding a bike, sit ups, high impact exercise, jumpies, mountain climbers, for the love of Pete, anything but the stupid, useless boring exercises that seem to be the only ones okayed for the pregnant lady.
3. Drink champagne. I might drink a bottle by myself. Normally, I am a wine person, red or white, with a fierce love of champagne, so I will skip right over the wine and go for the good stuff. And mark my words, it will be the good champagne. Expensive. Good. Smooth. Champagne.
4. Stomach sleep. That’s the only way I’ve ever slept. I can’t wait to go back. It will be glorious, even if it is more only an hour at a time. I hate side sleeping. It is most uncomfortable. I’m not sure I ever really fall deeply asleep anymore, because I am constantly balancing on my side, even with the aid of the pillow. On that note, I can’t wait to ditch the body pillow.
5. Hot bath. Sign me up for my Jacuzzi tub. I can’t wait to get back into that baby with a just below boiling temperature and bubbles.
6. Skin reclamation. This bit about the great skin and the glowing look is a LIE. I look like a teenager again. Le bebe has had me all broken out since around the time she made my morning sickness appear. It is only with extreme diligence that I can sort of keep it under control and kind of not looking like I have small pox or some God awful thing.
There you go. Six more reasons besides le bebe herself to be excited about the end of this. And when is this over? Not for a while, friends. Not for a long while.
PS Did I mention that one of my favorite colors to wear is orange, like the rusty kind of orange (though I can wear any shade of orange, including neon)? It goes great with my skin tones. Imagine my dismay when I put on a stretchy orange sweater and saw myself in the mirror. It looks like I’m holding a pumpkin in front of me (much to Vor’s relief, I just restrained myself from typing “It looks like I am a pumpkin” …except! I just typed it! Woops!)
PPS It’s not a thing I’m excited to do, it’s a thing I’m excited not to be. Sick. I’m usually a healthy person. Pregnancy has given me migraines, all day sickness, a surprising susceptibility to strep, and now, major GI problems. I have never had such issues until I got pregnant. Coincidence? Hardly. Anyways, things are bad enough that I have to go see a GI specialist because I am not gaining enough weight. It’s not like I’m not trying here, people. I am eating. In fact, I am about to go eat more. But it won’t stick. The pregnant lady can’t gain weight. Pathetic. Constantly sick. Nothing stays with me. At least I’m not on bed rest. Why do I even type these things out loud? That’s like asking for it at this point.PPPS I fail at being pregnant.