being pregnant has brought about the oddest series of comments from random strangers. and of all the people you would expect a little sympathy another pregnant woman completely blindsided me this weekend. kevin and i attended a football party at a friend’s house and i was introduced to a lovely blonde who was 21 weeks into her pregnancy. she inquired as to how far along i was and when i stated 16 weeks she told me “i’m more pregnant than you are”.

wait, did i walk into a gestation competition? will there be jello wrestling?

who in the hell says that? this isn’t a pissing contest. or in my case a i-haven’t-pooped-in-ten-days contest. when i brought up this woman’s comment to dmoney she said that the woman was probably just comparing the fact that her child is no longer a “manatee” and is more of an actual baby now. while this justification got me through the next hour of the evening i went home a stewed that it was still a completely inappropriate comment. even if this woman meant that her child is more developed than mine i have to reiterate that WHO THE FUCK CARES?! congratulations, you get to experience the miracle of childbirth five whole weeks before i do. they should give her a cookie, or a medal, or a swift punch in the tit.

and just for comparison purposes, this is the Manatee! at the time of this tete-a-tete:

and crazee ladee’s baby:

oh yes, i see the differences. while the Manatee! is still kind of skinny and would quickly be signed as a top runway model, her baby will be sitting at a fat camp snarfing cheetos and wondering why her mother is an unapologetic douchebag

remember the bone crushing exhaustion i spoke about in the last post? apparently it also causes you to forget that you once gave a shit about all the things you used to give a shit about. like blogging! and posting photos! and doing stuff other than lying in bed pretending you are the first person ever to be pregnant. because my brain has taken on the consistency of my recent craving (Campbell’s bean with bacon soup) i’ll distract you with shiny things! or just some crummy photos.

look! a bump! or it could be all of the aforementioned soup i’ve been consuming. 15 weeks, suckas!

and because i’m in a giving mood, here is another belly shot. stay tuned to next week when i showcase the enormity that are my boobs.

brock had some nasty, smelly tumors removed from his ear about a month ago. apparently they could do nothing about the other 15 pounds of him.

these are kev’s evil dead figurines that stand sentinel on his desk. i assume to give him inspiration when he’s doing our monthly household budget.

this picture is really for my dad, the biggest Alabama University fan i know. roll tide, daddy!

so far this pregnancy has been typical. and by typical i mean awful. that pregnancy glow they talk about, yeah it’s nothing but your skin becoming an oil slick akin to a 13 year old’s face. fatigue? i laugh in the face of that word. bone-crushing exhaustion is a better description. my day involves me working eight hours, eating every three hours, coming home and eating some more, and then falling into a coma with nightmarish dreams. oh, and the cherry on top of this oily, bloated, acne-ed, sleep deprived mound of flesh: i signed up for this shit.

please, for the love of all that is holy don’t call or email me and laugh knowingly and say “oh you silly child with your ten hour sleep a night, it gets so much worse”. frankly i don’t think i could handle that comment and neither could you. because i will come to your house and kick you in the mouth with one of my swollen feet.

and where is kevin in all this gestational wonderment? doting lovingly on his crazed wife. he has become “that husband” sans rushing out to buy a quart of ice cream and pickles. no, he is a smart man who stocks the fridge with every culinary delight my hormonal body can think of.

now, where did i put that tub of cream cheese and pork rinds?

i suck, i know! if blogging gave out citations for not blogging i’d be in prison for unpaid fines. but i have a good excuse. you’ll laugh when you hear the story. and then we’ll be best friends again only until i go another month without writing and then you’ll call me drunk and want to break up. (more…)