Assuming I don’t go to my Monday OB appointment and receive the Go Directly To the Hospital In Order To Have the Child Forcibly Pried From Your Body card — which is not something I expect to happen but it sure as shit happened the last time I was this pregnant, although I am hoping the complete and total lack of any signs related to high blood pressure (ankle bones still visible, booyah!) means there will be no surprises conjured up by the Arm Cuff of Doom — I have just over one week to go before Smalltopus arrives. Holy SHIT, people.

Things I am planning to do:

• Have a mani/pedi, scheduled for Monday afternoon. I’ve never had hooves AND talons attended to in the same outing before. I am officially so goddamned fancy I can barely stand myself.

• Get a haircut. I just had a cut recently, but I figure a maintenance trim can’t be a bad idea. Plus, shampoo scalp massage. Oooh.

• See at least one matinee, with my boyfriend the Mondo-Sized Junior Mints box. You can help me out with this one, actually: if you could see one movie this week — and you’d already seen I Am Legend, No Country for Old Men, Juno, and Cloverfield — what would it be?

• Perform some vague household puttering. I suppose I could always re-wash some of the baby washcloths, or arrange the onesies by color, or more usefully, fuss over what to pack for the hospital.

• Continue to frighten JB by randomly grunting and moaning. Hey, just getting out of a chair is hard work these days.

• Eat a variety of wonderfully fattening foods completely guilt-free. Tell me, what’s your very favorite food indulgence? Like the thing you know is so bad for you because it contains 205831 calories and fifty sticks of butter or whatever, but you love it beyond all reason anyway? This is my week for eating directly from the Fuckit Bucket, you know what I mean?

• Play with my kid, mano y mano. Oh, my beloved boy. Everything’s about to change, and I’m scared as hell (see also: comfort eating) and god, I hope it will all be okay for him.

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(I guess I can just keep giving him more ribbons if he gets too upset, though.)

Okay, here is the very last henna belly photo I will subject you to, unless of course you’d like to view the whole damn set, and who would blame you if you wouldn’t?

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I took that with a tripod and the self-timer on my camera, and I put a dog-hair-covered black blanket behind me and then I used Photoshop to black out the remainder of the background and these photos are officially the most self-obsessed thing I’ve about ever done because seriously, it occupied me throughout Riley’s entire naptime today and I tried on all kinds of outfits and I took about a thousand crappy images and if you’re wondering about the goofily downturned head it is because I could not deploy a facial expression that didn’t make me look like I was trying to act like Demi Fucking Moore or some shit, but WHAT THE HELL, I’m a thousand months pregnant and it’s very unlikely I’ll ever be pregnant again and I kind of wanted professional photos to document this last stage but these will have to do, dog hair and all.

I posted these on Flickr despite the fact that there sure are a lot of skeevy people who enjoy favoriting maternity photos, every few days I’ll see that someone has added one of my pictures to their collection of ripely enormous women and I’m just thinking, the hell? I know we all have our kinks but big pregnant bellies, really? Poor delusional bastards, someday they’ll actually be with a pregnant woman and their fantasies will be rudely crushed by the decidedly unsexy reality of acid reflux, gas, congestion, and hemorrhoids.

In other, non-body-part-exposing blog content, I have two questions for you. First: I have a copy of All the Pretty Horses on my nightstand which I am loving but it is taking me forever to read, probably because my brain is utterly useless at this point since it’s full of PLACENTA or something, and I’m planning a trip to the used bookstore this weekend to stock up on some light reading. You know, beach books, except it’s January and the weather sucks ass. Do you have any suggestions for fast-paced, entertaining novels that don’t feature high heels on the cover?

Second: I’d like to create a book out of my entries back over at ClubMom, just as a keepsake for me. I’ve looked into Blurb, and although their software seems like it has the right features, it’s slow as hell and crashy and generally is a pain to work with (at least on my Mac, dealing with a LOT of entries and pictures — its performance may well be a thousand times better under different circumstances). I’d like to use something that can automagically grab my blog content while it’s still hosted on Typepad, and dump it into something I can print — rather than, say, me having to format everything myself in some big gnarly Word document. Have any of you had any experience with successfully doing this?

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