I kind of hate myself right now. I spent the last month walking around smiling smugly, brushing off people’s advice with a “Thanks but I really feel great”, and thinking to myself how awesomeI am at being pregnant. I had even started thinking every pregnant woman before me had just been exaggerating how lousy it can be. Not for me, the Super Baby Grower.

But in the last three days I have been punished for my smugness, like some sort of Biblical parable on pride. I have a new understanding of morning sickness. It’s not just being a little queasy and upset by specific smells. It’s constantly being right at the edge of throwing up, even if you have just finished throwing up. I am dreading getting off this couch to rejoin the working world, with all its smells and people and lack of barf buckets. My crackers and ginger ale gives me the energy to switch between Olympics coverage and Judge Judy, but probably not enough energy to do my job.

You’d think living on Saltines and water would at least come with benefits – mainly the ability to button my pants. You would be totally wrong. How can I be expected to put on real clothes when I can barely yank my stretchiest work pants over my butt? I am one dropped pen away from splitting the seams and proving my mother’s point about clean underwear. Suddenly the ads for all sorts of belly bands and button extenders for pregnant women seem ridiculous. If my ass is growing at the same speed as my stomach, how am I supposed to keep wearing my normal jeans? I’m switching to sweat pants as soon as possible.

As if being fat and sick isn’t enough, I am also ugly. I spent 6 months of high school going through Acutane hell to clear up my skin and 9 weeks of pregnancy has ruined it. My face has so many red spots it looks like someones been using it as a dartboard. And it’s not just my forehead, nose, and cheeks. I’ve also got breakouts on my neck, chest and back. It’s August. How am I supposed to hide all this?  Makeup just seems to make it worse and it’s certainly not fooling anyone, so I’m not even going to bother.

I wonder, do I have to actually have a child before I can become a stay at home mom? Because now is when I’d like to avoid going out in public as much as possible. Since 50% of my job is smiling and greeting clients and being friendly and about all I’m being friendly with right now is my toilet, I don’t think I’m much of an employee. I’m also irrationally irritated by everyones questions. I already hate having to explain contracts go in the fax machine face down five times a day, now I feel like crying when someone needs help with their wireless connection.

I’m planning to work until January but if my boss actually comes in to work and sees this fat, pimply, barfing, crying, irrational person at the front desk I may get to quit sooner than I planned. It would help if I anyone was sympathetic. Although the women in my office see the crackers and the sick face and the inability to talk, they haven’t been pregnant in 20+ years and all have severe mommy-amnesia. “Oh honey, you don’t look good”, “Ginger ale, huh? You must be OK, I couldn’t even drink water!”, “Only three more weeks and you’ll be totally fine!”. THANKS SO MUCH. Here’s my advice to you – unless you want to answer your own phones, do your own advertising and actually show up and do your job at this office, maybe you should shut the hell up and offer to cover for me while I’m lying on the bathroom floor?


3 Responses to “Work”

  1. sarrible says:

    See, I’m irrationally irritated by everyday things, like people breathing, and I’m not even growing anything in my belly. Other than my belly.

    I’m sorry you’re feeling so lousy. If it helps, I read that morning sickness means the baby is healthy.

  2. Meg says:

    Aww, poor baby. Hopefully, the first trimester will be the worst for you, and it will be all uphill after that. Until the last two months. They kind of suck, but maybe you’ll be home by then?

  3. Trashtastic says:

    Kill ’em all. I’ll fly or drive up and help you hide the bodies. Pregnant ladies shouldn’t lift heavy stuff.

    Hell, I might even take one or two back with me. Carpool lane and all.

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