I rolled out of bed this morning, still pregnant. 39 weeks loooong. That's 273 days. (Actually it's possibly 38 weeks, 5 days, or 271 days, if you are my crazy ass midwife who changed my due date by two days randomly when I was about 6 months pregnant. Not that I'm bitter, not that the date isn't TOTALLY made up anyway, but still. At this point, two days is a big fuckin' difference when it comes to my mental state. We'll see who's more accurate in the end. I'm just saying.)
The girls jumped into the fray around 6:30 A.M., squealing in excitement for their preschool field trips today. Kurt, God bless him, rolled over away from us to give them more room to tackle me. Sweetie pie.
Did I mention the "still pregnant" part? Just checking. It's sort of the first thought of every day. Actually it's more of a despairing, "Still fucking pregnant, nononoNO". (Sorry for the f-bomb left and right. It's where I'm at.)
ANYWAY. Up we get, I comb my hair, put in my contacts, pull on the last few comfortable clothes left to me and otherwise completely ignore my appearance. Oops. Why oops? Because I will have to pay. Because there's always SOMEONE with SOMETHING stupid to say.
This time, too, this lady had no excuse. Another mom at the girls' preschool, who herself had a baby three months ago, waylaid me as I tried to drop-off Silvia and run for it. My kiddos always do best with a quick hug, kiss and departure. But this lady...
"Oh my gosh, you're still here?! WOW! You look SO uncomfortable. I bet you're not sleeping, right? You've got the biggest dark circles under your eyes, you poor thing! What are you at now, 39 weeks or so? Ugh. I was so lucky, I went at just before 38 weeks, the nicest short labor, but I bet this is just miserable for YOU. You just look terrible, poor woman! But it's so great that you're carrying all in front, I just HATE women like you, staying thin the whole time with just that basketball belly. God, I just HATE you, hahaha!".
Oh good! We're even, then! I really fucking hate you, too! Let's have a coffee and I will make you a list! You look like a clown, what is with that blue eye shadow? That outfit? Something my 5-year-old would pick out. Oh, and your nice short, 38 week labor? FUCK YOU.
Yes. The F word filling every nook of my brain in a Christian preschool. Because that's where I'm at, people. So thanks, crazy bitch lady from school. I'm glad to see your sensitivity to the whole pregnant experience dropped off a lot quicker than that baby weight. And yes, I just made a rude comment about someone's weight, I know. Low blow.
But she said I had circles, big dark circles. So I'm okay with calling her fat. So there.
I'm so glad I brushed my hair!