I wore white jeans after Labor Day. A friend remarked that it was a fashion faux pas. Really? This chick didn’t just meet me. Everyone knows I shop in the Juniors department and pretty much wear things that are too short, too tight and probably too young. I proved my point about my questionable fashion standards by telling her that I had just recently worn a hot pink bustier under a black see-through collard shirt to work. And even though the blouse was a button-down with cuffs on the sleeves, I knew this may have been pressing the business casual limits by wearing lingerie to the office. Wheeeee!
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At nearly 5’8, I was a pretty big mass while pregnant and carrying an extra 75 pounds on my already large frame. With the big ass, and (finally!) big boobs, I also had very large feet. This was most obvious to me when I was commuting to work in winter in NYC and stepped in a huge puddle and couldn’t bear the thought of going through the entire day with totally soaked feet. Loving the convenience of the city, I was able to stop off at the first store I saw to get a new pair of shoes. After trying on several pairs of women’s shoes, I found nothing would fit. The salesperson offered to help me and returned with men’s galoshes. I was trading in high-heeled boots (that I refused to give up and stuffed my hoofs into daily) to buy giant, rubbery, black, shoes -- for a man. Stretch marks, hemorrhoids, alarmingly odd body transformations and now this. Um, I can officially say the “glow” of pregnancy was dull.
I like to keep things fresh down below so I often sprinkle a little baby powder in the crotch of my panites. I just think that every woman should take extra care down there to keep things nice and flowery. When I ran out of my normal powder one morning, I used a few shakes from Adam's bottle of “Gold Bond” powder that was under the bathroom sink. Here’s a word of warning – never, ever use that stuff in your underwear. It burns like a real bitch! Guess I never considered that the “cooling” claim on the label actually meant – it felt like a thousand fire ants were ripping up my bottom. I’d take sand in my ass any day over the pain I felt on my sensitive bits. I can guarantee though that I will never again run out of my usual goods. After rinsing out and airing out, and sitting on a bag of frozen peas, I went immediately to Amazon Prime to order a case of my safe J&J powder. Yowza!
Always looking for a new (and quick) weight loss technique, especially in the summer, I tried cooking and eating dinner naked one hot night. I figured that if I could see all my blub I'd eat less. It didn't work. I just got burned by oil splatter in unfortunate places and actually dropped broccoli on my crotch. That's a new one! And so now I am still fat but with burns and food particles on my body. Super hot, huh? The only thing burning from here will be all bathing suits…. I went to the dermatologist for the first time the other day. Being a person who worships the sun all summer and does additional stupid shit like use a tanning bed and oil at the beach, I wasn’t surprised that I had a little freckle that was changing shape and color and that I needed to see someone about it. I was however surprised when the doctor walked in and looked like the chick who crawled around on the car in the White Snake video. Maybe in her profession, this doc has access to everything that helps anti-aging, but as she sat there scraping off my chameleon mark, I was wondering why on earth she’d choose such a gnarly profession. And I couldn’t help but feel all nasty as she picked off a hunk of my body. Fucking barf. I was totally skeeved out by my own self, I had to imagine she was too - although she didn't show it. As I left the office I mentally thanked the gorgeous doctor of skin for reminding me how gross I am. Just cruel..... I bought the cutest dress from Costco recently. When I wore it, I go so many compliments. I thought back to while checking out and I had this lovely article of clothing on the conveyor belt between raw chicken breasts and frozen shrimp. Costco certainly offers a one-stop shopping convenience, but isn't it just a little weird to have to worry that nasty chicken juices would get on my new clothing? Ew, gag, gross. I am certain that I would never have this problem at Macy's!
When I found out I was pregnant I couldn’t wait to start wearing maternity fashions. I also couldn't wait to start showing! Almost immediately after seeing “+” on the pee stick, I stopped holding in my gut as I walked around – I didn’t have to be thin – I was pregnant! Of course Adam noticed my lack of effort and commented that I could be the only person in the world who was showing at conception. Hell yes – I was using this “bump” thing to my advantage!
My mom was looking through my closet for something to borrow for an upcoming party. After remarking that she thinks I dress like a slut, she came upon two of the exact same dresses. She found it hard to understand that I loved the dress so much, I bought it in two different sizes – one for a “fat day” and one for “someday” when I lose weight. (Which is totally aspirational at this point since I cant stop eating at summer BBQs and drinking wine. Bring on the “fat day” wear!)
I have this obsession with wishing that I had long hair. It’s borderline crazy. To help the growth process, I have started taking tons of various vitamins – and some of them are huge. The other day I swallowed three at a time and one got lodged in my throat. I stood in the doorway of our bathroom, banging on the wall so that Adam would come help me. He ran over and I did the universal sign for choking. My eyes were watering, my face was red and even after trying to drink several gulps of water, the fucking vitamin was still stuck! Naturally, I was starting to panic. Adam kept telling me to calm down – which was actually just pissing me off. But I really flipped when he left the room to get his ever-present phone. What the fuck! How can he not stay and help me! I followed him, with one hand still around my neck and the other waving in the air trying to get his attention. He moved about the kitchen, phone in hand. I watched him rummage through the pantry and eventually produce little balled up pieces of bread. He told me to swallow them to move the pill down my throat. I did this and after what felt like five minutes of burning esophagus pain, the pill dislodged. I asked how he knew what to do, he said he Google’d it. I swear I would have bet my life – which seemed to have almost ended – that he was not trying to save me but that he was actually looking up how long it takes to cash in on life insurance after death. Sometimes, marriage is just dark like that.
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