this new yorker cartoon pretty much sums up how i feel about babies. or how i have felt for a very long time. just now, at the ripe age of 30, am i warming up to the idea of having one of my own. contigent, of course, upon finding someone who is totally committed to doing it 50/50 with me. oh get your mind outta the gutter. i don't just mean the procreation part, i mean the raisin' part. actuallly, 40/60 might work a little better. 40 - me, 60 - him. hey, i know my limits as a donna reed.
my friend j is here for her annual nyc visit, and she's preggers. oh ya know, she's got that glow - miraculously beautiful, round, and well, a veritable fertile myrtle. she's always been miraculously beautiful. boys have always been smitten with her intoxicating combo of personality, intelligence, absolutely perfect alabaster skin, and legendary ample bosom. now her bosom is...well...bursting. j wants to breast feed. trust me when i say that her son will never want for food...ever.
(funny story: shopping for bras at victoria's secret, she couldn't find a bra large enough to accomodate her milk-filled mammaries. they suggested she try their â??sister store, Lane Bryant.â?? ha. she did, and just as i would, shoved her lane bryant bag down into her other shopping bags, away from view, so that no one would know she'd shopped at a plus-size (!!!!) store. us women are nutso, aren't we? even when we're pregnant, CARRYING AROUND ANOTHER HUMAN, we don't want to be TOO BIG.)
j and i talked about how weird it is to watch her body change to accomodate this little person. her boobs are bigger. she's got a belly the size of basketball. her ni**les are darkening [(i just can't write that word.) did you know that happens? apparently, b/c infants don't have great eyesight, they darken so they're easier for the little babe to find. god, our bodies rock.] she craves things, and she takes better care of herself. allows herself more pleasures. she naps. she snacks. goes thru 2 gallons of milk a week on her own. mcdonald's sundaes that her dutiful husband fetches for her. she's stopped drinking alcohol as well as caffeine, and she stopped smoking long ago. she's seeing her body not just as a lump of clay to be molded and carved to fit some f-ing impossible standard, but as a home to be nurtured and well-cared for. hm. you can put shutters on the windows and slap on a fresh coat of paint, but if the inside's a mess, ya ain't gonna have any visitors.
we went shopping today, and i have to say, one of the the best parts about being preggers is the special treatment ya get. people give you their seats on the subway. they open doors. they carry your bags. stores that would never let you use their restroom, do. just inconspicuously place your hand on your conspicuous belly, drop your gaze a la princess diana, and coo, "can i please use your restroom?" voila. instant bladder relief.
i think we should all start treating our bodies as if we were pregnant. get more rest. take our vitamins. buy comfy clothes. drink more water, less caffeine. love our bellies. ask for help. buy good bras. (i can do without the darkening ni**les.) i think we'd all be a lot better off. even if you don't want a real screamin' bouncy baby, you can still treat your body as the amazingly efficient, miraculous machine that it is - built to CREATE...babies, art, or otherwise.
i've been terrified of pregnancy in the past - not the actual birth (ouch!) or the episiotomy (ouch!!), or the possible C-section (ouch!!!) - but b/c it would be such hard work to get back to where i was beforehand. oh, ya know...emaciated. nowadays, i don't inhabit such a "perfect" body, so it doesn't scare me so much. i mostly can't wait to be pregnant so i don't have to hold my stomach in for a whole NINE MONTHS! i have a "pooch." always have. i've been holding my stomach in since i was 3, and people have been asking, rudely i might add, "are you pregnant?" since i was 16. i'm tired of it! that's it. from now on, my answer will be "why yes. i am pregnant...with possibility. put your hand on my belly and it will kick. your. ass."
right now, my possibility wants lunch.
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