As I progress down this lovely pregnant adventure, I have discovered that yes, the inescapable back pain, leg cramps, temperature fluctuations, headaches, sweating, etc all absolutely suck. I love my baby kicking me, it is very reassuring, however sometimes his enthusiasm with pounding my cervix or full bladder is quite painful. However, the worst part of all of this business is actually having to interact with other people. Dear God, if there was ever a time that I just want to blend in and be unnoticed, now would be that time. I feel like a geriatric obese water-retaining side show.
First of all, I hate the questions. "Do you know if it is a boy or a girl?" "Were you hoping for a boy or a girl?" "Have you picked out names?" None of these questions are really any of your fucking business and further more, it is quite obvious that you are asking me this out of this polite need of feeling like you need to address the fact that my stomach is huge. Yes, I know that it is a boy. I am not telling you his name until he is born because I just don't feel like I need to broadcast this. And seriously? Was I hoping for a boy or a girl? I am hoping for a healthy baby. Male, female, hermaphrodite, gay, straight, whatever. As long as he is breathing and functioning properly, that is really all that matters. What I may have had my heart set on initially is sort of a moot point now and is really no one's business.
The next horrible thing that people LOVE to ask a pregnant woman is "how are you feeling?" I know that quite often, the majority of interactions that include the question "how are you?" is only out of polite necessity to fill dead air and no one really cares about how you really are. So right now, I'm pregnant. My armpits are soaking wet to the point where you can see them seeping without me even lifting my arms. My boobs are getting ever more huge, my back is killing me, I have hip fat and weird back fat I have never had in my life. My legs are cramping, I can't stand still because my joints feel so damn geriatric that my feet seem to be gnarling as I breathe. There is no "oh, I am feeling so absolutely wonderful! I feel like I am a beautiful and powerful female and am so blessed to be part of this lovely wheel of life and blah blah blah" answer that people are hoping to hear so they can move on that I really care to bullshit at this point. Just look at me. Don't ask, just look. My bloated face should answer your question.
Coupled with this "how are you feeling" business is my loathing of being told how wonderful I look. I'm not glowing, I'm hot as hell. There is no way anyone can look wonderful when sweat is pouring out of their armpits and their husband's and father's layered anti-perspirants smeared under her arms are in no way holding it in.
It really gets bad when there is food in the room. I can smell right now like a freaking blood hound. If you bake a cake 2 blocks away, chances are that I will get a whiff of it and need to eat cake RIGHT NOW. I am not talking about some dainty pussy portion either. I need to eat half of that damn cake. I want to point out that for many women, weight is an issue especially if you are like me and need to work hard with diet and exercise while not pregnant to maintain an attractive figure that doesn't make you feel like you need to wheel around on a Rascal or Hover-Round and pant and sweat everytime you visualize a staircase. So, because of this, food feels like it is stigmatized. The problem is that when you are pregnant and if you are like me, you're bloody starving. One portion just doesn't seem to cut it. I don't want attention drawn to this. Chuckles at my 3rd bagel or giving me permission to indulge in dessert just make me embarrassed and want to kill you or hide my fat ass away in a closet.
Which brings me to this very hard issue: right now, I really hate those that are naturally skinny. Especially those women that stay skinny and petite while pregnant. I feel like a beached whale. Just standing next to you makes me feel like my fat is going to start quivering and extending from my body and will eventually absorb you into my adipose tissue where you will be slowly digested over 1,000 years. So please. If you are skinny and happen to be near a pregnant woman, don't comment about needing to watch your own weight. Don't gripe about not being able to eat a normal human-sized portion. Just nibble on your ice cube and move along.
Finally, the worst thing I have had to deal with is having to dress up to go to some formal or semi-formal event, like my husband's office holiday party. Maternity dresses aren't terrible, but the whole ordeal of wriggling into nylons that extend up to your tits, having to not melt into a post-menopausal puddle while blow drying and then dealing with make up and constant need to re-situate everything you are wearing is pretty damn unpleasant. So after an hour and a half of pampering and finally feeling semi-presentable in my matronly semi-formal frock, my husband comes into the bathroom and says "you know you have panty lines, right?" Someone just shoot me.
