Jan
3
My hair is in dire need of some highlights and I’ll tell you the truth, the only reason I’m waiting to get them done is because I’m afraid of someone giving me shit in the salon. You know: “Do you really think it’s safe to expose your baby to the chemicals?” I actually do think it’s safe, or at least as safe as anything in this chemical-soaked world is, but I’m too much of a pussy to risk the potential interaction. Because then I’d have to be all, yeah I do, want to make something of it, and they’d be all, I have a degree in Crap That Can Theoretically Harm Babies and so there, and I’d be like, shut up I’m hormonal and weird and I will sit on you and crush you to death, and then we’d have to have a ninja fight with hot irons and bottles of Bumble & bumble products, and it would just be a pain in the ass.
I feel kind of fugly, though, with my half-brown, half-whatever hair. Contributing to the fug feeling is my newly acquired Pregnancy Face, where the jawline has slowly disappeared into a sea of puffiness and my eyes always look half-asleep. I’ve been rudely enjoying some recent photos of Christina Aguilera because even that tiny little hoochie now has Pregnancy Face. ALL MUST SUCCUMB.
Most of my clothes have stopped fitting for one reason or another. The cute tops are now too short, the pants all get pushed southward by the midsection, and the combination of these problems results in a large swath of naked lower belly. The fitted shirts are stretched to the point of explosion, and anything clingy bugs me now anyway. I’m itchy, I’m hot, my belly is constantly erupting in a flurry of disturbing movement: I need muumuus.
The good news is that Smalltopus seems to have dropped down a bit or at least found a new position that doesn’t involve crushing my lungs, because in the last couple days I feel marginally more capable of walking across the room without dropping to the floor and gasping, which is nice.
God, is there anything more boring than listening to a pregnant person talk about being, like omigod, so totally pregnant? Jesus. The sad part is that while I’m currently tuned to the All Gestation, All the Time channel, it’s only going to get worse: the All Baby channel is even more insipid. Soon I’ll be blathering about how eye-searingly beautiful my new baby is, even if he looks like a miniscule Andy Rooney.
:::
While I’m still mainly handling the administrative Macworld preparations at my office this year, I’m not actually going to the show. I don’t know when the cutoff time is for air travel, but I’d hate like hell to go into early labor while standing in a booth hawking software. I mean, I suppose there could be worse places to give birth, like a Porta-Potty, but the .000001% chance of it happening at Macworld is too much for me. Although it’s fun to imagine the looks of horror on some of the geekier attendees’ faces: ALERT ALERT FEMALE PRODUCING BIOLOGICAL SPECIMEN FROM LOWER BODY ALERT.
So I’m staying home and happily skipping out on booth duties—but sadly missing out on a week’s worth of room service—and instead, JB is going out of town during that timeframe. To CES. Which just so happens to be in Las Vegas.
The exhausted, blimp-sized pregnant lady gets to stay home with the kid in the nonstop Seattle rain, while the unfettered husband jets off to VEGAS for a few days of technology circle-jerking, sunshine, and various forms of adult entertainment.
Man, is that bullshit or what? What should I get in compensation, do you think? Spa day? Lapdance from Jake Gyllenhaal? Chest of gold doubloons?
:::
Lastly, for no particular reason, a picture of my child being chased by a chicken:
(Run, Forrest, RUN!)
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Oh, but see, fresh highlights can right so many wrongs. They make me feel happy and pretty and maybe that would help the way you’re feeling right about now? Regardless, best wishes and hang in there.
You can get hilights just fine. They use foils. My perinatologist said go forth and hilight. It would be a different story if you were smoking a cigg, and drinking a highball at the same time while sitting in the salon chair:)
Go get the damn hilight:)
I kind of can’t believe Smalltopus is almost here. But I am really excited for you! And I will happily read your all-pregnant-all-the-time channel. And you definitely deserve the Jake Gyllenhaal lapdance.
You look amazing. Although you feel you look different, you are still as completely beautiful as you were 8 months ago. Actually more, the baby thing and all.
I love reading your blog girrl. Luv IT.
“Although it’s fun to imagine the looks of horror on some of the geekier attendees’ faces: ALERT ALERT FEMALE PRODUCING BIOLOGICAL SPECIMEN FROM LOWER BODY ALERT.”
Awesome. I’m fevery and miserable but you made me laugh. THank you!
Yeah for lung capacity too!
Also you are such a foxy momma, that bi-color look is IN, isn’t it? People pay big money for it. Love the chicken and the boy. So random and fun. :)
It’s ok to kvetch about your preg. I’m starting to do the same, and I’m only 19 weeks along. Almost! Halfway! There!
Can’t wait to meet the Smalltopus cyberly.
And, I think the gold dubloons, delivered by Cap’n Jack Sparrow should provide adequate compensation. He’ll bring you room service, too. I’ll send him right over.
I’ve been a gawker for a while now, but just something about this entry that made me want to comment. I love the way you pieced it all together. Made me giggle out loud instead of just in my mind. Thanks for the giggle in the middle of my work day.
That picture is too funny! I love it, and the caption. Ah kids, endless entertainment (and other things).
Babies can crush your lungs? And make you itchy! Oh god, I’m nowhere near ready for that!
Also, the thought of a woman giving birth at at geek/tech convention? Is hysterical!
Interest in reading about another person’s life is not a matter of the subject, but of the telling. I could read about tracing the genealogy of a cucumber if it were funny and clever enough.
Clearly, “Bulbous Pregnant Women Can’t Find Her Waistline” is not an appealing subject line, but thankfully, you make it fun.
Thank you for being bulbous, pregnant, and calling your unborn child Smalltopus.
I was chased by a chicken once when I was little. I tripped and fell, dropped the basket with all the eggs in it, and cried (of course). The farmer lady grabbed that chicken, wrung its neck right then and there, and we had fresh fried chicken for dinner. Seriously. I could use some dubloons myself…
I just love that picture!
I hear Vegas sucks this kind of year. Hail and sleet and bear attacks. No, really, you don’t want to be there.
Also, how tall are you? Relatedly, if you want to get rid of your maternity clothes, send them to me because I think you’ve been exquisitely dressed throughout and I would like a little of that when it’s my turn.
I say swap out Jake Gyllenhaal and swap in Clive Owen. Because he’s all yummy and manly and I know how much you adore him. Rightly so. He’s the dreamiest. Oh and then have the lap dance while at a spa getting a mani/pedi then the world will be just about perfect.
Dude, JB’s going to Vegas and you’re staying home with the Daddy’s Boy and the Smalltopus? That sucks. Hard.
JB better have plans to compensate you adequately. That’s all I’m saying.
Go get your highlights. And a mani/pedi/massage/facial while you are at it. You deserve that. My doctor told me it was perfectly fine to get highlights while I was pregnant. You owe yourself that. The universe owes you that for all the hell that pregnancy wreaks on your body and self esteem.
Not sure if haircolor chemicals would affect a fetus…? But I’m sure someone would have something to say about it. They always do. Cute photo of the boy. I love the photos you take. Hope you give birth soon so you can stop feeling so crappy.
I’m so glad pregnancy hasn’t messed with your sense of humor. You remain hilarious. And I actually really enjoy the pregnancy/parenting stories. Just know, that even if you feel crappy, I still think you rock.
Who’s going to be able to tell, under the gigantic smock? And if anyone gives you crap, you say, “Oh, I know! But this is a special kind my OB said was safe.”
When I was pregnant, I went from all over color to highlights because my stylist said that she’d read “all the studies” and highlights are “super safe” since the dye doesn’t actually sit on your scalp (and therefore can’t get into your bloodstream and cause horns to sprout on Smalltopus’ head).
Don’t know if that’s true but you TOTALLY deserve to feel great- a spa day, with highlights, might be just the ticket!
As sucky as the last few weeks of pregnancy are, just be glad that you’re having to deal with it in January this time instead of September last time. Cause sister, I was right there with you! Nothing’s worse than being miserably big and pregnant when it’s 100 degrees outside.
Except it just occured to me that maybe it’s not 100 degrees in Seattle in September like it is in Austin….
God, just breathing can expose ANYBODY to chemicals! Like dying your hair is going to be any worse. Go for it!!
You need a hairdresser in your circle of friends. For EMERGENCY HOUSE CALLS.
holy shit – spa day, woman. Get the high lights and the manicure and a facial while you are at it! Make the man pay for Las Vegas!! Do it now!! Run, do not walk to the phone to make the appointments!
The thought of a lapdance from Jake Gyllenhaal while 7 months pregnant has me rolling on the floor!
With laughter, that is.
My comment regards Christina Aquilera and Vegas. My sister actually saw her there once, not in a show but in the actual casino, gambling. She said in real life she is barely five feet tall and looks like an eleven-year-old wearing the make-up of a transvestite. So picture this – without all the airbrushing and photoshop magic, not only does she have Pregnant Face, but she’ll soon be almost as round as she is tall. The only tragedy is none of us will ever get to see it.
How bout this – go to the salon and when anyone mentions ‘possible harm to fetus’, look at them all puzzled like and say ‘you think I’m pregnant?’
Not only will they do the highlights without uttering another word to you, they will feel so bad they will also probably do them for nothing..lol.
SCORE!
The picture, it is killing me!! so funny!
No, no. You don’t need compensation. You need planning. You need to go into labor three hours before JB is supposed to leave for the airport, is what you need. That way, he is tragically disappointed but is absolutely required to appear delighted, as though spending the night eating saltines and watching the tape roll out of the uterine monitor is absolutely equivalent to Vegas.
Alternatively, you could require that he see both Yoko Ono (on the John Lennon Educational Tour Bus, no less) and Kevin Costner and band. Make him bring back photographic evidence, too. That should be enough suffering to offset your Seattle anguish.
I have felt like you do three times now…and can I just say that you should follow your son’s example?
RUN! TO THE SALON!
The chicken is optional ;)
I think you deserve all three of those things in exchange for JB’s trip. The same thing happened to me when I was 8 months pregnant: my husband went off to a convention in Orlando where he rode roller coasters and ate free ice cream and then to a friend’s wedding where there was much craziness, that I missed out on.
Demand compensation!
I got my hair colored and with foil high lites when pregnant…she turned out perfect…it makes you feel so much better to get your hair done, good luck with the rest of the pregnancy :)
“God, is there anything more boring than listening to a pregnant person talk about being, like omigod, so totally pregnant? Jesus.” Actually, there is nothing funnier. You make me laugh — hard — pregnant or un; fit or not as fit as Billy Banks’ Favorite “Lookit here Linda’s Abs, PEOPLE. AlRIGHT!” Example; happy or un; reflective or infected. Thanks for another great year, Linda. You bring a smile to my face every time I read you — either one that makes me spew liquid products onto my laptop; or the crooked half smile of wonder or wistful understanding. Sometimes you make me cry. It’s all good — you continue to be the kind of writer I’d always hoped to be, and the kind of person/Mom/Wife I still hope to be. Happy 2008 to you, JB, Riley, and Smalltobus.
P.S. Shhhhhhh…. Loreal Couleur Expertise — all over cover AND highlights. Fabulousness in a box. And I’m serious — the painting-on-of-the-highlights is not that difficult AND, if you are patient, I think turns out better results than the salon. Might take a little longer, though — I usually do the highlighting part 2 or 3 times till I get it Just Right, which is usually at that point Completey Friggin’ Blonde. Okay, maybe not…
P.P.S. JB can help you paint the highlights in the back. Tell him: “No, you are not a fag. My husband does it and he is 180% Dude — just ask him.” (But damn, he’s also a good highlighter…)
P.P.S Not that there is ANYTHING wrong with being gay and I’m sorry if the word “f*g” offended anyone, I’msorryforgiveme. It just slipped out of my fingers.
Get the highlights! And if it will make you feel any better at this-most-miserable-of-pregnancy time, highlight the chicken, too.
Picture of chicken chasing Riley = A-W-E-S-O-M-E!
I feel you on all your pregnancy bitching. I hate rolling around like a beached whale when trying to get off the couch or out the bed. I grunt too as I do it so I’m sure I’m the sexiest albino mega-beast my husband has ever seen. I feel FUGLY as well. I too want highlights, but what holds me back is the cost. This is our 1st baby so we have a lot of shopping to do to prepare.
I think for compensation you need to upgrade your lap dance from Jake Gyllenhaal to both Chris Brown + Justin Timberlake (in their drawz).
Just a thought.
Wow, Riley is getting to be so tall! And he is moving toward a really fun time. You’ll find that you’ll be having real conversations with him. Then of course he’ll be asking for the car keys! Thanks for all your writing, also too! /Fifi
You should go, not because of the .000001% chance you’ll actually give birth there, but the 99.999999% chance you’ll get at least one geek an hour who’s utterly convinced you’re going to drop a baby right then and there on the convention floor, so they’d better not get too close or walk too heavily or let you too near the air vents or something. Hours of comedy gold!
Clearly a Jake lap dance. Nothing else will due.
I’m chiming in rudely without reading the comments to say get your highlights! I’m a super fruity organic hippie-type but I can tell you that when I’m in your position, I’m getting my damn highlights. No way am I feeling like you do AND having bad hair.
I have always been told that the no hair coloring during pregnancy thing has more to do with the changing chemistry of your hair rather than harm to the babe. The color can work too well, or the color may not hold at all. My colorist had a baby last year (healthy happy girl)and was exposed to those chemicals every day.
Maybe you can arrange to go into labor early, so JB can’t go to Vegas either?
That’s hilarious! My brother called my daughter Andy Rooney when she was tiny. Andy Rooney or Winston Churchill. Which ever one made me more mad at any given moment. That’s the one he picked to insist she looked identical to.
Two things.
1) chickens are seriously scary. One chased me to our property line where my dog was waiting and licking his chops and then thought better of it. But I was running (while hugely pregnant) until that point.
2) My daughter(s) are the most beautiful creatures ever, but my youngest looks like Bob Newhart. I even have professional pictures of her looking like good ole Bob. Babies are adorable, but part of that adorableness is the fact that they look like small old men.
You. are. awesome. I would PAY MONEY to see that fight at the salon. Seriously, I’m sick, but I’m peeing my pants just READING about it, can you imagine how I would be to see that in PERSON? Wait. On second thought. I might actually be kind of scared if I saw a crazy pregnant woman do that, but I would be videotaping so I could laugh later :P
And that picture is priceless! hahaha!
God, is there anything more boring than listening to a pregnant person talk about being, like omigod, so totally pregnant?
Women should have the right (under the law) to talk about their pregnancies as much as they want. I’m in awe of women who endure the ballooning process having never been through it myself…and um, totally terrified of the idea knowing how my ankles swell when I eat a spoon too much ice cream, even.
If it were me I’d pick a post-natal spa day, or a spa week, at some glorious resort, complete with a zillion people to fan your baby and feed it grapes while you’re ocean side having the warm stone massage (by some guy who looks like Clive Owen).
It might seem bad now, but think of it like this…
Twenty-two years of caring for your kid, working to feed/cloth/shelter it, and when you get all old and wrinkly, he/she is absolutely required to both take care of your every need (like changing your Depends) and listen to every word you say from age 60 to death. A small price to pay, IMO, for years and years of future entertainment..:-)
Talk about being pregnant all you want – I’m not even a mom, and I find your comments hilarious. Wait, was that the wrong thing to say? Should I duck?
Dude, you live in Seattle! I’d be willing to bet someone by you does organic coloring. Even though I would bet the regular old way is fine, this way no one can bitch! I go to an organic salon in Philadelphia, hilariously since I don’t color my hair, just cut it so it doesn’t make one bit of difference…I just love my stylist.
Best of luck either way!
(And for the trip to Vegas, maybe JB should arrange a sitter for an afternoon so you can get a massage and those highlights.)