Dangerous Road

Standard

Once again, the geniuses at Pregnant Chicken slayed me with their cleverness in the weekly email and I had to comment. Here.

Because otherwise, I’m going to whine about having to get down on my hands and knees and look for Princess Crybaby’s shoes AGAIN this morning and, just as I was about to really let the profanity go on the phone with The Coach, I found it. Under the table. “Exactly where she left it.” (and yes, I’m making that face, Coach – so don’t start)

Yes, it did occur to me to pick them up when I saw those shoes in two different places (is she throwing them around now or something?) last night before bed, but then I remembered I had corn to harvest on Hayday and I forgot. Sue me, dudes, I’m 31 weeks pregnant.

beluga

Things Never to Say

I’m pretty sure being pregnant is the most obnoxious way to pass most of a year. Not because of the process itself so much, but because you can’t be pregnant without people saying REALLY dumb things. And, while I’m sure there are some who feel perfectly entitled to shoot back a stinging retort to all the inappropriate touching, comments and shenanigans (Coach, I’m using that word just for you), I am *trying* to be a little more laid back.

But the first one on this list really struck me as funny and TRUE. Friends, gather around and let Auntie fridaynightgirl share a little safety message: just don’t. There is no good or safe way to remark on a woman’s silhouette when she’s pregnant. Especially not by 31 weeks. And yes, I’m going to explain. By this point, we feel like we’ve been hauling around a pumpkin in our belly for a couple of months now. We are hot. We are sore. We are uncomfortable. And, for the love of mike, we haven’t seen our feet when they are directly under us in weeks. So, saying “well, you just don’t even look pregnant!” is a no-go for a couple of reasons. FIRST, by saying that, what we HEARD with our psycho-preggo ears was, “Geez, you always look like a beluga whale to me!” Whether our weight gain is on track or headed off with the second gallon of dutch chocolate Blue Bell ice cream, we don’t want to be reminded of the all the clothes that don’t fit because of this little project we’ve got going here. We know we’ve gained weight, so don’t try and lie to us. SECOND. When you say it, YOU are trying to compliment us for not blowing up into the Stay-Puffed Marshmallow mommy. We get it. Somewhere. But our sore back, stretched skin and four articles of clothing that still fit mock that sentiment. Growing a human is HARD work, y’all. There are things that happen in pregnancy that are awful. Messy. Painful.. And that’s before labor and delivery. So, as whacked out as this logic is, telling a woman after 31 weeks that she doesn’t even look pregnant somehow discounts all this back-breaking work we’re doing here. At least, between my ears (which, for the record, is the ONLY part of my body that seems to not be a little puffy today) – don’t get me started on the chin. UGH.

I think we can all agree on the general stupidity of remarking “how big” a pregnant woman looks – at any point of her pregnancy. This doesn’t require much discussion. That’s just asking to have a chair thrown at you. Don’t do it. Ever. She’s perfectly aware of the fact that she’s not cutting much of a figure other than the previously mentioned relative of the WHALE.

My advice? When she comes to you and makes some remark about feeling as big as a house or whatever, pat her on the arm and tell her she looks fantastic and ask her if she wants a cookie. Or a Dr. Pepper. Or, in my case, a brand new bag of chips and french onion dip.

 

 

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s