Tiny Rhinoplasty

I came across something spooky while surfing the net the other day: Plasticized.com, a half-cocked (probably mostly untrue) website about what else?  Plastic surgery. It was touting the story of a Beverly Hills mom-to-be, who last year, apparently, got her fetus a nose job. She was so concerned her baby might share her genetically massive schnoz that she decided to correct the poor kid's problem in utero.

God forbid it should learn to have confidence about the way it looks when its eyes can actually focus on a mirror.

Even if this story is totally bogus (which, I assume it is) it's pretty ghoulish a thought.

Happy Halloween!

Maybe I'll dress up my stomach!

 

I came across something spooky while surfing the net the other day: Plasticized.com, a half-cocked (probably mostly untrue) website about what else?  Plastic surgery. It was touting the story of a Beverly Hills mom-to-be, who last year, apparently, got her fetus a nose job. She was so concerned her baby might share her genetically massive schnoz that she decided to correct the poor kid's problem in utero.

God forbid it should learn to have confidence about the way it looks when its eyes can actually focus on a mirror.

Even if this story is totally bogus (which, I assume it is) it's pretty ghoulish a thought.

Happy Halloween!

Maybe I'll dress up my stomach!

 

keep it down!!

My husband called me in the middle of the workday a little while ago and with jubilation in his voice informed me that at this stage of gestation our fetus could hear.

"It's ears aren't fully formed," he said (I could feel his excitement through the receiver). "But it can sense noise!!!"

Cool, I thought. It's bound to get an earful from the 25 times a day my stomach rumbles from hunger.

Not just that, my husband said (he must spend hours a day visiting parenting websites), it can hear noises outside the tummy too.

Cool, I thought again. This kid will get an earful of its mother's voice all day long - as a reporter, the phone is my best friend.

That night, my husband was still all aflutter about this gestational milestone. But I was not in such a rosy mood for various reasons (I will also blame hormones). Naturally, we had a fight. And I, true to form, started yelling.

"Quit it," my husband said, in his quiet voice. "The fetus can hear!!!"

Oh no. Poor fetus. After saying sorry to my husband. I also put my head down and apologized softly to my stomach. In the coming months, I'll probably be doing that a lot more.

they still don't fit!

The first time you do something it's always tough. I snow ploughed myself into other toddlers on the bunny slope the first time I went skiing. I sat shyly in the corner my first day of Grade 1, hoping no one would see me, or god forbid ask me a question. My first time with a guy - that was no fun at all - memorable, but no fun at all.

My first time buying pregnancy clothes: maybe not the worst thing ever, but it didn't go very well and I ended up leaving the store, Kick maternity on Eglinton Ave., just west of Avenue Road, with a pair of non-maternity leggings and nothing more.

The upside is that I did learn what "pop" means. The salesperson had to explain it to me over and over, after every time I said something like: "I can't buy these, they're too big" or "when the hell can I start purchasing clothes that zip up?" or "why do I feel like Steve Urkel?"

"Well," she said, getting increasingly frustrated each time, "you haven't popped yet."

I've heard the term, a lot, but until this weekend I didn't understand that to "pop," the salesgirl explained, means to be the same size in the morning as in the evening - when the late day bloat sticks around. Forever.

For first time preggers, such as myself, that may not happen till six months. Sheesh!

So, I did what I usually do when shopping for clothes that don't fit (until now it's been jeans). I threw a tantrum. A quiet one, just in the dressing room by myself to ensure I could return to the store without feeling like the salesperson put my face on a dartboard in the back room.

And I left with my leggings. At least they don't need to zip up! 

Stupid meat!

Is it just me or does the entire city smell like meat?

Okay. I know. It's just me.

I have a meat aversion that I wish I could get rid of. Not only because I used to be a rabid carnivore and would like once again to delight in the wolfing down of animal flesh, but because the smell is making me crazy  (more than usual!).

This week my doctor told me to "start eating" because I need to gain more weight.

It's just hard to shovel it in when I'm forced to leave out an entire food group. Ya know?

On the upside, this same doctor told me I could eat anything I want - in moderation. Even sushi.

That's the best news I've heard all month!

Sleep? No thank you!

Total exhaustion.

As I write this entry, I worry that it will be typo-laden and ridiculous-sounding because, it seems, my brain stops working about six hours earlier in the day than it did BL - before the Lentil.

And forget 8 hours of sleep. I need around 12. That doesn't leave a heck of a lot of waking, productive hours. 

So, what to do?

I wrench myself out of bed in the morning and keep myself awake late into the evening - fatigue be damned, I say!

I keep trying that strategy and it keeps on not working.  For instance, earlier this week I took a 45 minute spinning class. No sweat in my non-pregnancy days. But this time, I was forced into a four-hour post workout nap.

So much for trying to ignore my body.

Everyone keeps saying I'll get my energy back - do I believe them?

Let me sleep on it!

big footed mommy?

I have no doubt my friends were hiding pregnancy details from me - all part of their elaborate plans to get to me to give in, take the plunge and get pregnant.

And it worked. Until now, I had no idea what odd things could become of a woman's body these nine months. And beyond.

The weight gain I was prepared for (somewhat). But, I could never have anticipated what a colleague told me the other day.

"My feet grew a whole size and a half," she said. "I still can't fit into my pre-pregnancy shoes!"

She had children a few years ago.

No!!!!

That's the last thing I could have anticipated. And I have such cute shoes! What a cruel joke.

What evolutionary benefit could bigger feet possibly confer on a mother? Extra balance??

Phooey. What's next? Don't tell me my boobs will get smaller once I breastfeed!

Is it time to shop for maternity clothes?

Mornings, for me, have always been a race out the door. Today was no different - except now that I'm pregnant (see the first of my weekly columns), I'm slower. A lot slower. And, indecisive - especially about what to wear. It seems my choices lately have become ever so limited.

Usually light-headed first thing in the a.m., I stare up (lying on the floor of my closet, of course) at all the clothes I've accumulated over the last few years and try to figure out what will fit.

My pants don't. They won't zip up. My shirts are too tight. Even if I do get the buttons to close, they'll pop open later, like when I'm interviewing the police chief or something (it's happened. Thank god I was able to slip away and do them up before anyone noticed).

But, I'm not big enough to buy maternity clothes. I call this stage body purgatory. Too big, yet still to small. And I can't bring myself to spend money on regular clothes that I'll grow out of in two weeks. Call me cheap. I can take it.

So, I've resigned myself to just looking odd. I refuse to buy a belly band, those giant lycra belts that are supposed to keep one's pants up, so I just wear long tops to cover the open zippers.

And, I refuse to take off a trapeze-like jacket that one friend said is starting to look like Linus' blanket.

I'm waiting to "pop" as one woman put it. That moment when I finally look pregnant, rather than just plumpy. Someone please tell me that happens soon!