Today I took my new massive car through the drive through of KFC for the first time on a drive home from a massive day at the footy. I’m a bit cautious with the big girl, and ended up a good foot and a half away from the window. I had to drag my big fat pregnant arse right out of the car to pay for the food. Leaning out the window was just not an option.
The worst part? The woman didn’t even blink. Even when I said “god this is embarrassing” she didn’t make a light hearted joke or anything. Just starred blankly.
How embarrassing. It was so worth it. KFC workers do not have souls.
After this week and all the pain I’m in, I keep thinking about how the universe likes to fuck with people. I think about how very ironic it would be if I went into preterm labour with this kid, whereas my last one refused to be induced.
Damn you Murphy. Get out of my life, with your laws and such.
I try not to let things get to me very often. Being offended is just such a time consuming thing, I don’t like to waste my energy on it. Often times I’ll have a little 30 second rage and then realise that I’m wasting my energy on something that does not impact me in any way, shape, or form, and I let it go. Then I get that fucking Frozen song stuck in my head. Fuck you, brain.
(Side note; This is why I don’t understand politicians getting all mad about abortions and birth control, but that’s just me.)
One thing that I can’t stop being offended by, though, is weight loss companies. Specifically, consultants for weight loss companies.
I just hate it so fucking much. I hate that my friends have become mouth pieces for these companies that are selling repackaged shredded up newspaper for all I know. I hate that they play on vulnerable women’s insecurities. I hate that they become so grossly over positive.
I think what I hate the most about it is that I know that it’s a scam. It’s a pyramid scheme in the most obvious way. Not only that, but it can’t be healthy. I’m not against weight loss as a whole. I think that people should do what makes them happy. I put my foot down when I know a friend is spending truckloads of money for some chemical milkshake to “cleanse” themselves of “toxins” and is suddenly shitting fucking rainbows.
Fuck you, misogynistic society, for shitting all over self esteem and brain washing intelligent women into buying your crap. Fuck you times a billion.
Seriously kid. What are you doing? You were breech and it was lovely. We were both having a great time. We were both so relaxed and happy.
Now you’re, I dunno. What the hell are you doing? What ever you’re doing, it’s uncomfortable, and I need it to stop. I can’t feel your big head between my abs* anymore, so obviously you’ve put it down.
I swear, if you make me go into spontaneous labour, I’ll be forever bitter. I’m already bitter your sister made me wait 3 weeks longer than I should have to meet her. Don’t do this shit to me, child. I know how to hold a grudge.
So hitting 30 weeks hasn’t been so kind to me. My pregnancy still isn’t as bad as it was with Eliza, but I’m anticipating a long 8.5 weeks. I’m starting to feel breathless, starting to get heart burn, and this baby has moved into a position which not only physically hurts, but it makes me feel nauseous.
Thankfully, I’m getting more excited about the prospect of Master Hood, though the newborn stage still terrifies me. I’m living in a state of either denial or complete petrification**. I figure I’ll be okay though.
My options are as follows;