the next big thing

I'm back, y'all! With a fetus in tow! How's THAT for an entrance?

I think most of the people that read this have already been told. If I didn't tell you personally, forgive me. As you can imagine my brain has been all over the place. Like Britney.

Now excuse me while I go barf.

Actually more like hover over the toilet and wish I were barfing. See, I am not afraid to puke. I don't understand how anyone could be afraid of it. Sure, it's totally vile when it's happening but when you're done and you feel a million times better? Tell me that's not worth it. It so is.

I will admit I rested my cheek on the toilet seat in between spittings. But ONLY because the air regulation system where I work doesn't regulate shit and it was about ninety fo'zillion degrees up in that bathroom, but the seat? Cool like cucumber. And I wiped my cheek with anti-bac afterwards so get that repulsed look off your face. It's not like people rub their 'ginas on the seat. Come on. Are you daring me to go find a study that says there are more germs on your cell phone than on a toilet seat? Hm? I'LL DO IT.

Because I have massive amounts of time to play on the internet, I have taken it upon myself to find out everything there is to know about being pregnant. I even signed up at the iVill*ge site so I could create a pregnancy calendar and see what kind of limbs my fetus is growing this week. (Buds of arms, turns out!) It's week seven, by the way. Seven of THIRTY-EIGHT if all goes well. Did you know elephants carry for two years?

I have also been perusing the October 2007 Expecting Club forum (awww shit, I'm in a club). Turns out pregnant women are crazy and also? The corniest bunch of quacks you ever saw in your life. At the bottom of just about every forum post are homemade graphics showing off the fam.

You know you need some examples.

(hello, menopause babies! I totally thought those people were husband and wife at first.)

(I'm not getting this "mom to" and "wife to" nonsense. And how relieved is little Jesse that his mom couldn't think of an inspirational name for a boy? That's why he smiles so big.)

*shudder* I'm pretty sure all the estrogen pumping through these women has skewed their sense of what is just too fucking cheesy for words. I promise right now I will NEVER make a collage-type homage like this.

However, I must admit it's comforting to know I have a way to connect with a bunch of women on the same pregnancy timeline. Speaking of timelines, here's what my little glob should look like right about now:

My little ALIEN is more like it.

But I could be smitten with an alien if he was taking up residence in my abdomen.

You know what? As freaked out as I am about this sometimes, it's actually quite fun.

What isn't so fun is that I have to wait until March 30 for my first OB/GYN appointment. I'm one of those irresponsible fucks who never took herself to the gyno. But all that shall change, so don't you worry. My bits will never be so thoroughly inspected as they shall be in the next nine months. It was kind of weird picking a doctor. I knew I didn't want a male doctor. I knew I didn't want to find a doctor at St. J*hn's, which is St. Louis' baby factory, because it's just too far away. If something goes wrong I want to be right around the corner. So I picked one at B*rnes Jewish. You can hop on the website and fill in exactly the kind of doctor you want, down to their age. So I found a nice female doctor in her early thirties who is very pretty and kind-looking, but not too pretty, because please. I don't want Gisele Bundch*n staring back at me and my bits.

I think the computer is making me nauseous. I think BREATHING might also be a culprit, for that seems to be all it takes.

Over and out. Preggo style.