- “i want my fucking colace.” i know you’re thinking, courtney, how often did you say that pre-pregnancy? um, more than the average bear. i find there’s a girl, interrupted quote for almost every moment in your life, and here’s one that i didn’t know would come in handy so often. in the past, i usually opted for, “my dad owns a deli, ass hole.”
- “does it smell like Pam [cooking spray] in here?” “babe, why does the bathroom smell like onions? no, seriously. did you take an onion into the shower?” “is someone eating totino’s pizza rolls?” these are verbatim. i know your sense of smell is heightened during pregnancy, but there is definitely no Pam in my bedroom. these are actual phantom smells. truly bizarre.
- “babe, we’re having a baby.” in 14 weeks (longer really, since my due date got moved back 9 days), i still have not adjusted to this idea. the good news is that edgar usually looks at me with utter wonderment in his eyes and says, “i was just thinking about that. it’s bananas.” this is usually when i realize that poor edgar has picked up my way of speaking and this child has no chance of his/her first word not being “amahzing.”
- “these pants don’t fit.” ’nuff said.
- “if the last 3 months are any indication, we should name this baby ‘ralph.'”
- “yes, like kate middleton.” like that bitch invented morning sickness.
- “get it off! get it off! get it off!” this was previously reserved for those desperately sad humane society ads, the ones that literally kept me up nights until i broke down and started donating to them a few years ago. it is now reserved for nutella ads. that woman starts talking about milk and hazelnut–i’m quite literally gagging right now even talking about it. those ads are downright offensive.
- “you know, the only thing i’m vain about is my ___________ and now that’s ruined, too.” look, i don’t walk around thinking i’ve got a hot bod. i imagine it can be pretty stressful if you work really hard for the body you have and then this alien starts growing inside your formerly taut tummy and undoes all your P90X workouts or whatever. i’m not even mocking that. what matters to you is what matters to you. i am moderately vain–as vain as a person who openly despises her body can be–about my skin. i get a lot of compliments on my “complexion.” to be honest, i don’t know what that means. my skin tone? i have huge pores, so it’s not that. that i don’t have pimples? how many 29-year-olds have a smattering of adult acne? whatever they mean, i’m always kind of grateful that i don’t have problem skin. until now. now i have these…bumps. i’ve also never before had stretch marks. i’m a chunk, no two ways about it, but i seem to have gotten chunky in a reasonable enough amount of time that i didn’t get stretch marks. now i’ve learned that they’re essentially unavoidable after pregnancy. cut to me ordering a tub of cocoa butter and slathering myself nightly. the other night i asked edgar to get me something while i was lotioning and he said, “i’m trying to read my book.” to which i responded, “and i’m trying not to get stretch marks!” if this is as nuts as i get about my body, i think i’m ok. but oof, being pregnant really brings out the insecurity in me