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I think I may have linked this before, but I just ran across it again today and it cracked my ass up. Man, I love weiner dogs.


32 candles would not fit.

Thursday, August 4, 2005

I stepped on the scale this morning for the first time in quite a while. Only when I'm actively trying to lose weight do I clamber on and off that thing on a regular basis, and I haven't exactly been embracing the South Beach Diet lately. Unless that particular eating plan includes a daily keg-sized portion of ice cream, in which case I've been more than diligent.

I'm not completely positive what I weighed before the pregnancy, but I believe I've gained about 17-20 pounds so far. Back at the beginning of this whole magical journey spiritual process road to EdemaVille, I would have bet money that by 33 weeks I would be bursting the seams of Subway Jared's fat pants. I mean, I never had the kind of morning sickness that makes women pale and endearingly waiflike - instead, I must have consumed an entire baseball stadium's worth of hot dogs in the first several weeks. Also, Cheetos. And, um, Nutter Butters. A LOT of Nutter Butters.

Nothing has quite compared to that rabid first trimester hunger (MUST HAVE NITRATES OR WILL DESTROY TOKYO), but I have to say I'm pretty sure that during the past months I've been far exceeding the recommended extra 300 calories on a daily - or, let's be honest: hourly - basis. While I do attempt to include some measure of healthy foods in between the less-advised nutritional items (such as the Fried, Salt-Encrusted, and Chocolate Coated food groups), I must confess I got down on my knees and offered up a tearful prayer of thanks when my glucose results came back normal. Because people, I actually liked that orangey drink - that's the kind of unholy love for sugar I've developed.

All in all, it's mildly surprising to me that my weight gain hasn't been more in the Kate Hudson range, you know? If anything has worked in my favor, I think it's the amount of walking I've been doing. JB and I walk every night, not so much on my part for the exercise factor, but simply because it feels so much better than sitting. I've also been walking to and from bus stops for the past few months, essentially forcing me to get off my ass every morning and evening. Since I haven't seen the inside of a gym since, oh, THANKSGIVING OF 2004, despite my original grandiose plans to take prenatal yoga and "Mommy Pilates" and somehow become sinewy and toned so that post-birth I could instantly fit into a size six, HA HA HAAAAAA, walking has been a Good Thing.

When I look at myself in the mirror lately, I'm pretty happy with what I see. I don't know how to accurately describe how freeing and amazing that feels, really. I'm not saying I want to spend the rest of my life enormously pregnant, but for the first time, like, EVER, I don't feel overly critical of my body. I love my Lucky Strikes belly ("so round, so firm, so fully packed!"), and since I wasn't what you'd call "skinny" or "toned" before, I don't notice many other changes. I'm sure seven and a half months of mainlining Ben & Jerry's hasn't gone without consequences, but let me tell you a secret: when your belly protrudes a good two feet in front of you, it tends to dwarf everything else in comparison. Dimpled ass, jiggly thighs? No one can tell, they're too busy taking cover from your straining navel.

A major exception to the self-lovefest? My feet. My feet need the Jared pants. I bought three pairs of largish flipflops at the beginning of the summer, and those are the only shoes I can wedge onto the unrecognizable water balloons that are currently blubbering around down at the bottom of my CANKLES. If I were meeting the president, you bet your ass I'd be in flipflops, and if anyone said boo, I'd devour their goddamn face. After dipping it in powdered sugar, of course.


Am I a bad person for exposing my unborn child to Bloodhound Gang's "Ballad of Chasey Lane" at top volume this morning on the way to work?

Dear Chasey Lain
I wrote to explain
I'm your biggest fan
I just wanted to ask
Could I eat your ass?
Write back as soon as you can

You've had a lot of dick
I've had a lot of time
You've had a lot of dick Chasey
But you ain't had mine


That was so awesome of you guys to leave all those comments for JB, he really got a kick out of them. I can only speak for myself, but I think it was a good birthday all around - he got the Haloscan love, we had a great dinner, and I successfully made his favorite cake (a frankly trashy concoction of chocolate cake, cherry pie filling, and Cool Whip. I guess I should be happy it's not something complicated as fuck like eclairs, right?). We're also going back down to the Oregon cabin tomorrow to extend the birthday festivities with some downtime on the river. I'd bitch about being, you know, too precariously close to birth for such a tedious-as-hell shitpig of a drive, but the prospect of one last getaway sounds too good to pass up. Even taking into account the number of exotic I-5 rest stops we'll be visiting on the way.

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