In the Round
Many of you may think you remember the above image from your Art 101 class as being that of the Venus of Willendorf. Sadly, you would be mistaken. That is in fact, me. And this one:
Nope, not the Buddha. It's me again. Only I don't have that stupid grin on my face. Yes, my due date is crawling closer and I am officially huge. Mammoth, even. I have taken to pleading with God. "Stop holding the baby hostage", I beg. "I've learned my lesson. Honest. I'm penitent. I'm patient. But really, wouldn't we all be happier if the baby were born, say, right now?" I'm convinced he's torturing me on purpose. He must want to teach me not to be vain. He's going to keep the baby in there, growing, until my body is ravaged beyond repair and I learn to wear mom jeans for the rest of my life and LIKE IT. I would let myself get really mad and say that I hate Him, but that would be really Catholic of me, and besides, then He'd never give the baby up. I'm only kind of kidding.
But since this is supposed to be a blog about staying positive, I've included the above image. It's the only part of my body that has not gained weight: my wrists. Consequently, I am hopelessly enamored of them. They're beautiful. They're delicate. They're bony, for heaven's sake! If only entire wardrobes could be designed around one's wrists! The world would be a much simpler, happier place if we could all stop measuring our hips and thighs, and instead buy jeans based on wrist circumference. Oh well. For now, I just avoid mirrors. And continue to bargain with God.
Many of you may think you remember the above image from your Art 101 class as being that of the Venus of Willendorf. Sadly, you would be mistaken. That is in fact, me. And this one:
Nope, not the Buddha. It's me again. Only I don't have that stupid grin on my face. Yes, my due date is crawling closer and I am officially huge. Mammoth, even. I have taken to pleading with God. "Stop holding the baby hostage", I beg. "I've learned my lesson. Honest. I'm penitent. I'm patient. But really, wouldn't we all be happier if the baby were born, say, right now?" I'm convinced he's torturing me on purpose. He must want to teach me not to be vain. He's going to keep the baby in there, growing, until my body is ravaged beyond repair and I learn to wear mom jeans for the rest of my life and LIKE IT. I would let myself get really mad and say that I hate Him, but that would be really Catholic of me, and besides, then He'd never give the baby up. I'm only kind of kidding.
But since this is supposed to be a blog about staying positive, I've included the above image. It's the only part of my body that has not gained weight: my wrists. Consequently, I am hopelessly enamored of them. They're beautiful. They're delicate. They're bony, for heaven's sake! If only entire wardrobes could be designed around one's wrists! The world would be a much simpler, happier place if we could all stop measuring our hips and thighs, and instead buy jeans based on wrist circumference. Oh well. For now, I just avoid mirrors. And continue to bargain with God. 
1 comment:
I hear you. Soon, the torture will be over...traded for a new kind of "torture", if you call it that--with sleepless nights as you try to recuperate and get your body back. You always look good to me, even though I'm sure you don't believe me (I never believed a soul while I was pregnant). But it's true. And I agree with the wrist measurements!!
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