Stories from the front lines of an unplanned pregnancy.

Saturday, January 19, 2008

A T.M.I. fairytale...

Once upon a time, there was a prissy little snot named Alex. Alex lived for the better part of her life believing that she shat vanilla ice cream out of a platinum asshole. Unlike the dreadfully common people with whom she shared this world, Alex knew that she was perfectly unsullied in every way and entirely above the many disgusting practices and behaviors of the average man. Eventually, Alex found herself involved with a young man named Christian who, though wonderful in nearly every way, was extremely open about each and every one of the intimate details of his physical being. Alex was shocked. With frightening regularity and shameless abandon, Christian would belch in her presence. He would scratch and "adjust" himself in broad daylight, oblivious of the passing public. He announced his intestinal distress and would pardon himself for suspiciously long stretches of time in order to seek relief in the men's room. And most disturbingly of all, it wasn't that Christian was simply unaware of how appallingly common his behavior was, but that he simply did not care.

Despite his awful lack of modesty, Alex fell in love with Christian and promptly moved in with him. With great effort, she managed to maintain her facade of perfect hygiene and total control over bodily functions for months. She would excuse herself from the room in order to blow her nose, she ran the faucet in the bathroom sink whenever she needed to relieve herself (lest he hear the tinkling noise of her stream), she brushed her teeth religiously before daring to speak in the morning, and she exerted every bit of control to hold off on all other bodily functions and releases until he was away at work for the day. But Alex was pregnant, and with each passing month the facade became more and more difficult to keep up. The mounting pressure of a growing fetus on her bladder forced her to make frequent, sudden dashes to the bathroom. The soaring amounts of progesterone coursing through her body caused her digestive system to slow down, resulting in mortifying bouts of uncontrollable gas. Mucus membranes in her sinus cavities began to swell and cause her to snore noisily through the night only stopping after a liberal squirt of decongestant up her nose. The fluctuation of hormones in her system led to excess saliva, which she inadvertently sprayed at everyone with whom she spoke. With alarming speed and growing intensity, the list of vile side effects grew and grew until Alex's modesty had all but evaporated into thin air, in exchange for the comfort that can only be given when one's truest discomforts are brought to light.

But nothing at all could prepare Alex for the final blow to her ego that came in her 26th week of pregnancy. This coup de grĂ¢ce came with deadly accuracy, forever removing Alex from her ivory tower of carefully constructed modesty and throwing her onto the streets of the common man, at the mercy of Christian and the entire staff of the local CVS. Evil mistress that she is, pregnancy- once responsible for Alex's bountiful bosom and beautiful nails- bestowed upon Alex her most humiliatingly uncomfortable gift yet. Alex... got--

-- wait, did you really think I was going to tell you? Come on now, drooly, hairy, and gassy as I may be, I've still got a little modesty left. Suffice it to say, I've been suffering something awful these past couple of days and I finally had to break down and tell Christian so that he could go and get me the miracle cure that I've been dying for. Unfortunately, in exchange for this, I now get to suffer an even worse injustice... his mocking. Oh, the relish with which the mister has been enjoying my agony. Denied the pleasure of watching me battle constipation (another common pregnancy woe, which I've so far avoided with a healthy diet of high fiber foods), he's taken this opportunity to really let me have it. Prissy little Alex is human?! Hooray! Let the games begin! To celebrate the occasion, the mister has given me a nickname, taken to answering the phone as a drug company spokesperson when I call, used my ailment as an excuse for being late to work, and spent the better part of the last 24 hours making me want to curl up in the fetal position and die of shame. And the worst part of all? I'm feeling too damn wretched to fight back. God forbid he decides against going to CVS for me tonight! So, here I am, sucking it up, six shades of miserable and anxiously awaiting salvation-- served up with a side of humble pie.

With love and woe,

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