Confessions of the Divine Miss K

Thursday, March 04, 2010

9 weeks to go, why God, why?

Oh sweet God, how am I ever going to endure 9 more weeks? I am officially “over” this pregnancy. I’m over having nothing to wear and always feeling ugly. I’m over having to wake up multiple times to pee throughout the night. I am over having to wake up just to change positions multiple times throughout the night. I am SO over my bad skin and blubbery thighs. I am even over the once adorable kicks to my ribs and abdomen because now, holy fuck, they hurt! But wait! I’m not finished complaining! I’m over the bone-crushing exhaustion that had taken a brief hiatus during the 2nd trimester but has now returned with a vengeance. And I’m over how bloody hard it is to get in and out of my vehicle. Or to, you know, bend down and pick up a sock. I am over it taking me twice as long to walk the dog because I now officially waddle. And I am over always feeling slightly out of breath. I am over putting the slightest thing in my mouth and suffering the horrible pain of heartburn, forcing me to down as many Rolaids as possible in quick succession. Lastly, I am really over having a non-existent libido because dammit, I miss sex with my husband (even though the neck rubs he gives in replacement are mighty nice too).

All in all, I am done. And yet apparently I’m not because hidey ho I still have over two months to go. Although I’ve started to tell LB that while he certainly must stay put while mommy takes her Mexican vacation next week, he is free to show up any time after that, provided his lungs are good to go. He hasn’t said anything in reply, but I hope he understands. Right now he’s dancing a jig for no apparent reason. No for reals, my belly is terrifying to watch at this moment. He is literally trying to make off with my belly.

Next week we leave for Mexico. Apparently this makes us crazy because everyone seems to think it’s a foregone conclusion we’re going to end up delivering the baby down there or something. I’m not worried. In fact, I’d be more worried if we weren’t going away, as in “hide all sharp objects from Miss Courty.” I don’t know – maybe it’s the hormones, or sleep deprivation, or just the fact that it’s March and ugly outside and my new blonde highlights aren’t blonde enough and I can’t even go spring shopping as a pick-me-up, but wow, am I depressed. Not depressed depressed. I did manage to clothe myself and haven’t cried in probably 3 days. But I feel like I’m in purgatory. Work is now boring. This pregnancy is simply uncomfortable. And literally I have run out of baby items to research on the internet. Even my nesting is slowing down because hi! I CAN’T FREAKING BEND DOWN TO CLEAN ANYTHING UP! Have I mentioned how exhausted I am?

Although I can’t blame it all on the pregnancy. I had a busy past couple of weeks, which included two trips to Richmond for work-related Olympic stuff. My days were long and filled with the most taxing of all things – being nice to people, including the annoying ones. Is it any wonder that I’m a wreck?! We all know how trying being gracious is for me!

The one thing that was interesting during my time at the Olympics was that I got to use public transportation a fair bit. Now I’m not a public transit kind of girl. And it’s really truly not because of the snob in me. It’s because I’ve never really lived anywhere that public transit was required. Even during my university years in Montreal, I used the Metro sparingly as most places I frequented were in walking distance. And I think I used the bus like all of 3 times during my 4 years there. But considering that I was staying out in Richmond and my mom was downtown Vancouver, I was forced to use the Sky Train and bus many times during my stay there the past two weeks.

Of course, because of the Olympics, the Sky Train was always packed and seats were nearly impossible to get. Before I even boarded, I always wondered how long it would take for someone to offer me their seat, and if it would be a male/female/young/old. About a month ago, my parents, Adders and myself took a day trip down to Spokane and ended up at a Red Lobster for dinner (which BLECH. I am having dry heaves just thinking about that meal). Being a Saturday night, we had to wait for a table, along with a bunch of other families. My mom and I must have stood for 10 minutes before finally a man in his late 30’s noticed me and offered me his chair. I declined, although I profusely thanked him (we had been driving all day so it felt good to stand for a bit).

But back to my time in Vancouver – every time save once on a bus I was offered a seat. Maybe not straight away but definitely by the 3rd stop or so, someone would notice me and offer me their spot. And yet surprisingly there was no definable age/gender/race that did the offering. Once it was a woman in her 30’s, another time it was an older Chinese fellow. One guy was an American man in his 50’s, another little Asian woman in her 40’s. The only age bracket that consistently did NOT offer me a seat was those assholey teenagers and early 20’s folks. Which pissed me off because all those stupid 16 year old boys did NOT need to be sitting down, and as a result they all received death stares from me. What was funny though is that often times people who were sitting (while I was still standing) would see me, make eye contact and then quickly look away, as if they KNEW that they should offer me their seat but oh God, they sooooo didn’t want to and so would pretend they hadn’t noticed me and my enormous belly. Jerks!

Anyhow, so that’s my story. In short – I am over this pregnancy, I am depressed and blah because I am over this pregnancy (and also because it’s March), I am SOOOOOO thankful (hallelujah!) that I leave for Mexico in less than a week (oh, that beach! I can hardly wait!), and society still encourages people to give up their seats for pregnant ladies and thus we have not completely gone to hell in a handbasket.

That is all for now. Over & out.


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