All Belly, All the Damn Time
September 19, 2005
Oh Internet, I had such grand ideas for today's post -- we have artwork and a-fancy paintin' type things in the nursery now, and lo, it is gorgeous and very ready for the Prince of Everything's debut. My mother-in-law? Scary, scary talented. And patient. And not asking me to help at all, which is the best part.
I took pictures this morning but...well, I am an idiot who forgot to turn on the flash. So I have pictures of shadows and things which are not at all interesting.
Here's a preview, courtesy of the one photo that actually came out, kind of.
So instead of nursery photos and some hilarious commentary about me stenciling leaves (yes), repainting our bathroom (no), and pouring spoiled milk into everyone's morning coffee because I JUST DIDN'T NOTICE THE CURDLES (yes), I will post some belly pictures, because THOSE came out just fine.
Jason took these last night, when my belly looked especially pointy and lopsided.
There really isn't any way to describe the feeling of having a full-sized, actual infant inside you. Except impatience, because clearly, this kid is just freeloading at this point.
Then I took these this morning, just to give you the full, uncensored horror.
(Yes, there are stretch marks. Many, many stretch marks. But because I am a lousy photographer whose photos are never properly lit, you can't really see them here. But I won't deny their existence. Am so sexy I can hardly stand it.)
Completely unrelated addendum: Thursday's post turned out to be quite the barn-burner. Hundreds of emails. Hundreds! I tried to reply to everybody, but I failed miserably, as I think I burned out around email number...twelve, or something.
And the great thing? Out of those hundreds of emails? I got exactly two telling me where to stick my "ridiculously rude" or "completely unrealistic" opinions regarding reader advice. Oh, and one person who went back through my entries to find one with open comments just so she could slam me there, because she was determined like that. Heh.
So three people hate me now and will never read the site again. And hundreds (hundreds!) of you love me and all but ordered me to stop defending myself all the time.
(Which means I'm going to defend myself one last time.)
FRANTIC SELF-DEFENSE BACK-PEDALING #1: I got some emails from people apologizing for their comments when they did not need to apologize for their comments. And I felt mean and bad, because I didn't stress enough that there is a HUGE difference between saying "Hey, this was my experience" and saying "Hey, this was my experience and thus, the only way it should be done."
Sharing experiences is Good. We like sharing experiences. We are like Oprah, only with more cursing.
Not Good: judgement, scare tactics and a lack of respect for people who make different choices than you.
FRANTIC SELF-DEFENSE BACK-PEDALING #2: The worst offenders of my zero-assvice-tolerance policy did not leave comments. They emailed me directly. Emails that, when forwarded to other friends, ellicited the same toe-curling reaction of "who the fuck is this person and how can she possibly think this is helpful?" So while you may think that all of the comments left last Wednesday were fine and dandy, rest assured they were the tip of the "unless you do things this way, horrible, horrible things will happen" iceberg.
And while I can handle a few of those, once I start getting dozens and dozens of scary stories that make me feel completely trapped in at every angle and I don't even KNOW THESE PEOPLE and now my head is full of botched forceps deliveries and maternal hemorrhaging and GAH, anxiety attack, I simply have to draw the line and plead with the Internet to Make. It. Stop.
FRANTIC SELF-DEFENSE...wait, fuck that for this one. I am sick and tired of hearing the blah-blah-talkyspeak about how because I write things on the Internet and have a comments section, I should totally be okay with whatever people choose to say to me.
Maybe I should totally be okay with it. But guess what! I'm not. I'm sorry I'm not as big of a person as you think I should be, but maybe you'd rethink your position if you had to live a week with my email inbox and actually saw some of the stuff people say to me day after day.
Okay, I'm done now. I heart the Internet once again and will maybe think about not closing comments permanently after all.
Let's all talk about something else. Is anybody wearing any particularly cute shoes today?