With hormones thick as pancake batter
Posted on | April 1, 2007 No Comments | e-mail | print
Yeargh, third trimester. It’s like puberty all over again. There’s a tiny, squeaky, rational part of my brain that’s chirping “GIRL, YOU CRAZY. PUT. DOWN. THE ICE CREAM.”
But the overwhelming majority of my brain is on emotional autopilot: “omg why is life so hard and why do i feel so tired and out of sorts and i just want my mom to come here and make everything okay no wait i just want to go to the mall and buy some new shoes no wait i just want to lay on my stomach and go to sleep on my stomach for chrissakes but i cannot because i am pregnant and one day one day soon i will have a a a a a baby and omg i am creating a person and he’s going to be so beautiful and so amazing but what if someone hurts his feelings and i have to go after that person and maybe even commit a crime on him because no one messes with my children and then i would have to go to jail and oh my gosh life is so hard and I am trying not to cry, where’s the ice cream.”
It’s like … you’re trying very hard to drive to Iowa, because that is where you are headed, and it’s Iowa you are driving to. But the car you are driving keeps pulling to the right, pulling to the right, no matter what you do. And next thing you know the car totally, majorly pulls to the right, so fast! You didn’t even realize it! What happened?! And now you’re in Atlantic City and the bells are ringing and the lights are flashing and Iowa is so far away you can’t even remember what it looks like.
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