Have you ever watched anyone shove bread dough into a loaf pan? Well, this is what it is like for me to get into the tub these days. To my credit, our bathtub looks like an economy size for say an RV, so it has never been the relaxing place I wished it could be but nevertheless, as the baby grows, so do I. I literally stuff to fit.
So, as I waddle the earth these days feeling evermore like poppin' fresh, I look for whatever small hints and reminders of beauty I can find. They are few and far between. I'm too tired to fix my hair, there's no need to waste my makeup when I only leave the house to go the grocery store or Lowe's, and I struggle to keep my maternity pants up as they continuously slip down making a web in my crotch and exposing my crack. I hike them up every five minutes and have begun to dread bending over to pick something up because I know as soon as I go down, so will my pants. My underwear has become translucent because they are stretched so tight across my bum and hardly any of my shoes fit around my cankles.
Well, the other day I went to my OBGYN for our 20 week ultrasound. This is what makes it all worth it, I suppose. Recently the baby has started to move around a lot so I was so excited to see this and to find out if it is a boy or a girl. Feeling pretty despite my inflated state, and having that glow, I strolled into the building with a hitch in my step. I am a beautiful pregnant mommy, I tell myself, and today is a big day for us.
But, as I walk into the lobby I see a display for Breast Cancer Awareness. Now, as I mentioned my body is literally morphing into what feels like the Pillsbury Dough Boy. The only upshot is that my boobs have gotten huge. They are the only things I'm proud of right now and what make me feel pretty and maybe even a little sexy. But in their good intentions, the Breast Cancer people have managed to make a mockery of boobs.
The display offered bras of all shapes and sizes that had been creatively decorated and contributed by members of the community. They had fake flowers attached to them, coins glued on, lace, feathers.... you name it and apparently the goal was "the gaudier the better." One lady brought in a Santa Claus statue, only from the waste up, and modeled him proudly in a bra on the outside of his red and white furry coat. His bra was holiday appropriate with pointy Christmas tree ornaments poking out from the center of the bra cups. But the piece d'resistance was the pastry someone brought in to add to the booby celebration. Someone painstakingly created mound-sized cinnamon buns with huge raisins on the tops to resemble the nipples.
I felt crushed. My boobs were all I had left and now I knew I would no longer be able to think of any part of my body without immediately thinking of breads and pastries. So, I hiked myself into the elevator and tried to regain my excitement. I was going to see our baby and nothing, not even a drag queen Santa Claus or edible boobs, were going to get me down. I got in the office and not long after was getting prepped for my ultrasound. After a few minutes of looking around and identifying arms and legs, the moment had come. Boy or girl?
"You have to use some imagination," the tech told me. "Boys look like turtles and girls look like hamburgers. And...... it looks like you've got a hamburger."
"Better get used to it, honey," I thought to myself about our little girl. Apparently she has a life ahead of her where she will continuously be compared to food items. She's not even out of the womb and already she's being told her hoohaw looks like America's favorite sandwich. Is nothing sacred???
I felt like having a ritualistic killing of these analogies by consuming both a hamburger and a cinnamon bun but I thought unfortunately that this would only have the reverse effect and would only encourage my body to take on more of a dough-like persona. So, so much for beauty. For the next 20 weeks, I'm resigned to my fate of waddling around and getting stuck in the bathtub. But, it'll be worth it when our little girl shows up, hamburger and all.
