Crustaceans and stilettos

There will be certain things I’ll never feel the same way again after being pregnant, or at least not for a long time.  A quick Sunday list:

1) Putting on underwear (or pants).  I’ve reached a point where it’s become very difficult to raise my legs beyond a certain point.  I’m not quite sure why that is, and I must admit it’s caught me by surprise.  All I know is when I do it, it’s as if I’m wearing a “bikini of pain.”  I suddenly feel as if my bikini area and entire pubis is full of nothing but pulled muscles and tendons – muscles and tendons I never knew I had.  Granted, I wasn’t exactly a contortionist before, but come on…. At least I could get dressed without moaning, groaning, falling over, or needing to grip something for assistance.

2) Crossing my legs (with no hands).  See description above.  It’s pitiful.

3) Getting into/out of cars in parking lots/garages.  While it does seem as if the environmental movement has put the damper on monster trucks and SUV’s, there are still lots and lots of them out there.  Furthermore, they are frequently operated by morons who have no spatial skills.  To add to the problem, sometimes the morons with no spatial skills drive regular cars, too.  All of this (on top of building landlords and planners trying to save money by cramming as many parking spots into a lot as is humanly possible) combines to make parking a challenge for each and every one of us (even those with only one person in the body).  My motto has always been “if I’m within the lines, to hell with it,” even if the person next to me was close (i.e. too close).  Now, I’ve had to readjust that attitude.  Sometimes, I have great difficulty wedging myself (plus purse, lunch bag, computer satchel, etc…) into my car.  In these cases, I have sometimes left nasty notes on the vehicle next to mine (only when they crossed the line) and have even been tempted to not be so careful with my car doors.

4) Shrimp.  I haven’t been able stomach even looking closely at them since being knocked up.  The same goes for boiled crabs, but that isn’t as ubiquitous as shrimp.  While I suppose this isn’t a crippling defect, it does often cramp my style.  I also think this is why I haven’t really been able to enjoy Vietnamese food since acquiring my passenger.  Greek and Lebanese is different; I love it, I would eat it, but the garlic absolutely kills me later.  It’s the one sure-fire way for me to get heartburn, which I have been somewhat lucky in avoiding to any great degree.

5) Shoes.  I’m not just talking about seeing my shoes.  I’m talking about wearing them.  I had heard that for some of us, our feet may expand a size (or more) and never go back.  For others, once you pop out the kid, you’re fine.  Regardless, you don’t really want to go buy a shoe wardrobe not knowing what’s in store for you lowest appendages.  I do miss shoes.  I really, really miss my heels.  I’ve spent all summer in about 4 different pairs of dressy flip-flops.  I can’t really reach much else as far as ties, zippers, or buttons go.

6) Restaurant booths.  I’m too fat for most of them.  It’s obnoxious.

7) Sleeping on my stomach (or even my back).  Dear god, I miss sleeping on my stomach.  I think I shall weep with  joy and wake up doing a little dance once I can do this again.

8) Walking normally.  I’ve always moved with purpose.  Some have described me as stomping around stores/the house/the office like  a stormtrooper.  Now, I don’t think I could clock 2 miles an hour.  It’s really frustrating.  I find myself like a fat cantankerous old woman in the grocery store, hollering after Will to “slow down, dammit” as I waddle along.

9) My belly button.  I’ve blogged about this already (see the Outtee Limits), but I still really do miss my old belly button.  I know it will be back one day, and I would kiss it if I could.

10) Having two matching feet.  Most days, my right foot plumps up like a Jimmy Dean sausage link.  I don’t know why.  It’s always the right foot.  It’s peculiar.


About larva225

Working mom. Is there any other kind? Geologist. Nerd.
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