So everyone talks about the big pregnancy changes – you know, the getting huge and the morning sickness parts. But I’ve been discovering that no one really tells you about the gross details. Because they probably figure that if word got out, no one would bother procreating. Either that or they think that if they were to mention some of this stuff, no one will ever find them attractive or sexy again. Me on the other hand, well, you know I don’t mind taking one for the team now and again. So if by some chance you ever happened to think I was sexy, I’m guessing these new mental images of me in my current state will dissolve those thoughts forever. All I’m saying is that you should just make sure you can handle the shattering of the illusion before moving forward.
The little Mango might look cute and tiny in the ultrasounds but OMG, has disrupted my body in so many frickin’ ways.
1. I’ve been informed by my husband that I’ve recently taken up snoring. And not a little snore now and again. But apparently, I lay down and approximately 30 seconds later, he hears the thundering stampede of elephants in the room. Lovely.
2. Farting -- another new trait brought on by my cute and innocent co-habitant. And not just farting, but pretty much whatever sound can come out of my body indicating gas (burping, loud groans from my abdomen, etc) including some that I didn’t know existed, I’ve been emitting. CONSTANTLY.
3. Since I can barely hold it all in now, you can guess how thrilled I was to learn that a lot of women actually POOP during labor. Yeah, you heard me. Because they’re just pushing and everything comes out, including your breakfast apparently. I plan on avoiding the issue by not eating the week before my due date.
4. Another fun one, sweating. It could be negative 50 degrees in my office, and I’m hot and gushing like a linebacker.
5. I’m constantly peeing. And sometimes, the urge to pee comes on so suddenly that all I have to do is sneeze or laugh to piddle a little. My solution – don’t laugh, sneeze, cough, walk down slightly hilly inclines, or really move much at all during the day. I’m also considering investing in some Depends, or stocking up on the baby diapers early.
6. Speaking of leaking, dude, did you know how much mucous-y discharge can seep from down there in a day? I don’t know either, but I’m definitely going to have to invest in new undies once this is all said and done.
7. Typical activities that I’ve done for years are suddenly harder. Walking makes me breathless and my sides cramp up. Crouching down to wash the dogs the other day was a bit painful. Waxing down there is hell (don’t get me wrong, it always is, but now, it’s like triple hell) – sorry, was that too much info? I just figured if you’d gotten past the farting, anything was fair game.
8. Some symptoms aren’t so much gross as just bizarre. For instance, I found out early that I can’t get laser surgery while pregnant because apparently eyesight changes. And I couldn’t get a perm because they say that hormones could cause your hair to not really take to a perm well. And a friend recently informed me that trips to volcanoes aren’t in my future because the fumes aren’t recommended for pregnant women. Darn, and here I had been hoping to go pick up a hot guy in Hawaii (while in my super-sexy swimsuit, of course).
Crazy, right? And for the life of me, I can’t figure out what the purpose of it all might be. I guess if it’s nature’s way of making sure I don’t have sex with other men while carrying my husband’s child, mission accomplished. Because I’m pretty sure I’m not getting hit on anytime soon. But it’s bit of an overkill, no? I mean, seriously, the big belly isn’t a turn off enough? And my husband can vouch for the fact that I’m just less into doing it these days anyway as it seems to get more and more awkward. But I guess snoring, farting, and sweating like a pig the moment I hit the sack clinch the deal for sure.
Though to restore your faith in the sexiness of pregnancy, I suppose I should tell you that I got some huge knockers now. I see it as a bit of a curse designed to make me go out and buy expensive bras from the few specialty shops that actually carry my size. But at least it gives my husband something to look at while he’s holding his nose and covering his ears.
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