I haven’t written much of anything for the last few weeks, months? Eeee, has it been that long? It’s not that I’m being lazy, though I will definitely cop to that accusation. It’s that I didn’t want to inundate my blog with pregnant nonsense. Since that is pretty much the only thing happening to me at the moment, I have a sneaking suspicion that it would sneak in.
However, since I haven’t written in so long, no one has any idea what is going on with me. That’s right, all twelve of you are totally in the dark. But do you really want to read about pregnant stuff? I do, but it’s pertinent to me right now, and I go elsewhere to find it. Besides, I thought, what’s really all that funny about being pregnant? I inadvertently just answered my own question. Here’s how. As I was about to type that sentence I had to reach down to the calf area of my jeans, grab a handful of material, and hoist my ankle to rest on my other thigh. I can’t even cross my own legs without manual assistance. That’s probably pretty funny from an outsider’s view. What I shouldn’t add is that the reason I have to do that is because I have so much pain in my thighs right now that I actually am physically incapable of crossing my legs, making walking absolute hell. There, see, that’s not very funny. Kinda makes you feel bad for laughing, doesn’t it? Well, that’s not what I want.
As I was coming in to work this morning, a trio of gentlemen were standing about fifty feet in front of me and from one of them I heard the word ‘waddle.’ I didn’t need to hear the rest of the sentence, as I had already flipped him off. I started to explain why I’m walking like I have two prosthetic legs, but a few words into that explanation and I just stopped. Eh, what’s the point?
Now I happen to think I handle pregnancy pretty well, what with all the experience that I have. I have a fairly physical job and yet I work up until the 11th hour. My first two pregnancies were pretty nondescript, save for a slight scare here and there. The last few weeks always suck; it’s a law. I guess I’ve hit that point. It seems to have come early this time around. I have seven weeks to go, whereas it usually doesn’t start to become a problem until four weeks to go. But see, that’s just not funny. Maybe to a sadistic onlooker...
I personally think it’s getting pretty bad when I’m trying to find a way to maneuver early maternity leave simply because the sheer act of driving to work is excruciating.
So, no, there’s not much to write about or report on right now as it all revolves around my current state of moo cow. Now as long as nothing unusual happens I will be shopping the day after Thanksgiving and I’m sure that will yield some stories worth reading, and not just about me squatting by a Cinnabon for half the day because people are running over me. Now, that’s funny
