Food for Thought

I have always been very proud (ok, maybe proud isn't the way to describe it) and pleased that although my boobies are hooterific and large, I have been lucky enough to sport areola on a smaller scale. Large nipples scare me. I hate it when I see women (and men) with giant pepperonis on their chest. Well, I have moved on from pepperonis. Even sliced genoa salami. I've reached dinner plate proportions. I know, I know...it's so my child will be able to find the food source and fill its little belly. But still! Come on, people! How many times have you ever seen a woman take off her shirt (don't lie, we've all witnessed it) and cringed at her gargantuan nipples?

And can I also just say that if one more person tells me I need to stop wearing heels, I will start throwing punches! I love my heels and wear them religiously. What, now that I'm pregnant, I have to wear only flat shoes? Yes, that would be great - let's make me look as squat as possible! Even better, I will waddle around in house shoes. Wouldn't that be attractive?! Please, people! My feet are fine! I can still walk! I will wear my heels until my feet look like sausages in them or I can no longer balance.

I'm not sure if any of you have been watching Sex & the City lately. Wait a minute - of course you have. I will watch the same two episodes on Tuesday and Wednesday on TBS, then watch two more shows on another channel at 10:30. Sometimes even catching another 10:00 showing on a different channel. What can I say, I miss my NYC pals. Anyway, Miranda is pregnant now in some of them and she rattled on last night about her gas. Oh, Miranda, I can relate. And it's just started in the last few weeks. I sit at my desk and marinate in them all day. And sometimes, I just go ahead and push them out, not caring who hears them. They have a mind of their own. And they aren't stinky (mine never are - ha!), they are just thunderous. I put my hubby to shame.

And while I'm being candid, let's discuss the fact that I have a delightful sex dream almost every night. It's so random & enjoyable. My dreams have always been very vivid and now even more so. It's crazy what I dream about, but obviously, the sex ones are the best! I have dreamed about having it, watching it, sometimes it's me, sometimes it's not, but it's like a dirty little porno inside my disgusting little mind.

Last night I had a near breakdown. God bless my husband. He tells me I'm gorgeous and rubs my belly and talks to the baby like a good papa bear should. However, at the same time, I have no patience with him. He's not understanding of the changes in my body and mind just yet and it's frustrating. How could he possibly relate? All he can think about is our baby and how excited he is! I take out a lot of my frustrations on him and I know I shouldn't, but he's there. He's my husband and he's the one who's there to hear it. I am such a raging bitch - I think Jenny McCarthy summed it up in "Belly Laughs" when she referred to it as psycho bitch. It can really come from nowhere. Totally unexpected and unstoppable! He truly is wonderful and I have absolutely taken him for granted, but then again, he's supposed to read my mind, right? Isn't he supposed to submit to my every word & whim because I'm pregnant? That's what I'm told...when Mama's happy, everyone's happy.