As always, kindly press play on the music below before reading this post. Doing so will immediately help you lose 6 lbs.
Having been pregnant with my first child for what felt like 87 years, I recall it vividly. I remember people commenting on “how teeny [I] was [for a pregnant girl]”, the constant exhaustion, the slew of advice and the never-ending IS-THIS-SHIT-NORMAL?! “research” (a.k.a. reading thread after thread of an English-based parenting forum’s topics from 2001, somehow written by lame mules) .
Now, 6 months later, I look back and think to myself that strangely, even with a market that boasts annual retail revenue of $7 billion, several truths aren’t in any books or vlogs. Below were my favorite Top 7.
1. You MAY just inexplicably sh*t your pants, all the time.
This one was fun. Before I even knew I was pregnant, my body’s first reaction to the tidal wave of new hormones was to try to shit them out. No further explanation is necessary.
2. You MAY have some epic, blinding panic attacks.
This joyful realization dawned on me during minute 3 of a tedious presentation that I was giving my brand new CEO, upon my first day meeting him. We were 2 of 3 people in the board room; this was hardly public speaking. Around slide 5 of a presentation which I had drafted and memorized entirely, my hands started to shake, my face felt like like someone had thrown acid on it and the tunnel vision set in. It was all down hill from there. Before you knew it, I went on a mumbling rampage that would have made Miss South Carolina 2007 look like Martin Luther King Jr. Oh and the kicker? I had to run out of the meeting room post-humiliation to puke. Thanks, hormones.
3. You WILL be able to tell the different between low-fat and regular ice cream, milk, butter, and everything else.
To quote the late & great Mitch Hedberg “because of acid, I now know that butter is way better than margarine. I SAW THROUGH THE BULLSHIT.” [fast forward to 19:52] Acid and pregnancy are basically the same thing. So touché Mitch Hedberg.
Do not attempt to get low-fat anything because it will no longer cut it. I had 10 months of Haagen Daas and guess what? It calmed the pregnancy rage.
4. PREGNANCY RAGE IS FO REAL.
Despite my no-bullsh*t candor, with most strangers (a sober) AnonyMissus is an eternal pacifist. I prefer a sly smile over a yelling fit in the street.
But pregnant, apparently I am Joy Tuner from My Name is Earl.
This dawned on me as I screamed “WELL, THEN COME OVER HERE, BITCH!” to a lady who was driving past me on my street as I took my dogs out for a quick potty in our front yard. Said supercunt had decided to slow down to a stop, get out of her car, and yell “Get those dogs on a leash, NOW!” to me, in my 8-month pregnant state.
So of course the next course of action was to call her out to fight. At 36 weeks pregnant. On my front lawn.
In case you are wondering, she just looked horrified and drove away, so I won.
5. It’s ALWAYS hormones.
Did your tax return come 72 days late? Did you suddenly become lactose intolerant? Were you unable to find a close parking spot when you came to your 328th OB visit?
Well, I have some news for you: It’s your hormones. If and when you become unable to tolerate a bite of cheese, or your hands shake when you see the color orange, or you suddenly have to urinate every time you see the image of the Starbucks mermaid, your OB will likely chalk it up to hormones. No need to panic. There is no explanation.
6. Some aversions are here to stay.
I learned very quickly that pork products were the devil. A special kind of evil, their ways were cunning; I would quickly be drawn in by the thought of BBQ Thai Fried Rice only to subsequently throw it up for 36 minutes following the 3 bites shoveled in. My mind said YESSSS and my body said HURRRRRRWWWWBLLHHH.
Till this day when I try to eat bacon, my mouth does the pre-vomit mouth-water. I can no longer type about this because I’m about to hurl.
7. Your baby will use a machete in utero to try to cut its way out through your ribcage.
I am a 5 2″ gnome who married a 6 3″ white tower. I should have considered this before getting knocked up, but I was too busy having a bunch of fun weird sex. Around month 8, AnonyMunch started to get too long for my midsection. His solution? Stretch that bitch out. Maybe use a machete to attempt a prison break. Apparently this is “normal”. Where were you on that, “What to Expect”?!