Crazier Than A Sh*t House Rat (Part II)

Welcome back to our journey through pregnancy. I hope that I have aptly named this series of posts and did so to reiterate that pregnancy is a medical condition that makes you crazy …. and everyone around you crazy.

We have talked about my first piece of advice: Go Deaf. Remember that #1) it’s not their fault for crawling up in your business with useless opinions and #2) nothing works. OK. Moving on.

Next, Go Dumb.

When I was pregnant, a good friend of mine actually told me that she would have more dignity than me whenever she got pregnant.  Another asked me why I was always in a bad mood. My favorite: my brother sang the Oompa Loompa Song EVERY time he saw me walking between buildings at work. For. The. Whole. Nine. Months. (Reference last post about FORMER friends.) What really gets my goat are the people that THINK their pregnancy was hard because they threw up some, had weird cravings and a stomach ache for a few weeks and so the rest of us should just suck it up. I’m sure those people can find a nice blog that isn’t mine.

Apparently, when you wake up puking, go to work puking, pull over five times within 8 miles EVERY day to puke, and go to bed puking, you should wear a smile about the natural beauty and miracle of being pregnant. When you look like a toxemic oompa loompa and your doctor keeps yelling at you for your sugar intake because of your some fancy g-word diabetes, you should just smile and marvel at your new circus body. Add all of that useless advice that pours in from all four corners of the world to all of these body changes and I can’t imagine why I was in such a bad mood?

Maybe its all about perspective. I could easily say that my glistening skin wasn’t from endless puking, my scary appearance wasn’t from drastic body temperatures changing with the wind and my distemper wasn’t because I was raging against Eve and all of her descendants for continually taking my body to near death just to prove a point.  I could instead say that all of this and more derives from the simple knowledge of the little miracle (trying to kill me) inside and I could bask in that healthy ‘glow’ that everyone says comes with pregnancy.

However, my lesson centers around not talking at all.

Remember, if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all. I realize that this is like trying to get fly sh– off a pinhead with boxing gloves on, but you will find that your ‘looks’ are perfected to say all that needs to be said. I could easily clear an entire room with one look (and that room was always full of armed men.)

Don’t worry. I couldn’t follow either of these pieces of advice either, so stay tuned to my next post – Go Ballistic. 🙂

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