Picture me in your head pre-preg. I am 5’2’’, I’m about 110lbs. I have a sparkling way about me. Please see the visual aid <——–. This will be important information to retain for the following post.
B takes me. No, scratch that. I drag B to Pea in the Pants…or pot. Pee in the Pot for a bra. He was subjected to this trip as a result of subjecting me to the constant sound of buzzing bees in our house and then also on our special date. If you don’t instantly know what I’m talking about, you are a lucky woman whose husband wasn’t watching the world cup. And what a coincidence to be taken to a Mexican restaurant for your special date, the day of the Mexican soccer game, in front of the Mexican TV. And bees in Spanish? Still sound just as goddamn annoying.
ANYWAY. B owed me. So off to Pee in the Pot, the most overpriced stupid store on earth. I should open a maternity clothing store and be like, see this Forever21 dress? You need it because you’re fat and it’s the only thing that will make you look even somewhat like a regular human and I’m going to charge you 200 dollars. Cool? And you’d be like, give me 4. Now.
So I needed 3 things. A boppy pillow is one. If you don’t know what this shit it. You are missing out. You NEED IT TO LIVE YOUR LIFE. It takes sleeping to a whole new level. If I had this when I was single I MAY not have gotten married.
Next maternity pants. But their sizes are all wonked. I was swimming in an extra small. I get that they are trying to boost my ego but the spillover on my Jcrew Minnie’s is no long acceptable. So no pants = pants crisis.
Finally I need a brar, as Jill Zarin would say. Here’s a tip ladies. When you get preg, your boobs blow up within 24 hours. Don’t buy an expensive bra. Pick up some seashells and string or maybe just some masking tape or something else cheap because your fat cow boobs grow WEEKLY. I’m on my 3rd brar trip.
(For those of you who don’t remember this picture is from the oil cleanse post. Many of you have asked about this and if it worked. I can’t speak to it’s effectiveness because Plankton rules my skin. That baby scoffs at any and all skin remedies. It’s all, please bitch, don’t even bother. I run this show)
So I’m like, Pee Pot girl, please measure me. She does (in the middle of the store) B tries to look away. She gets quiet and whispers. “you’ll need an E”
what did you say pee pot? WHAT DID YOU SAY PEE POT GIRL? AN E? FOR ELAFANTITIS ENORMOUS?
oh. my.god. an E. an E and E. My boobs are going to keep growing and the eat my face and people will think I’m a two headed monster with a tiny hat on and that tiny hat will actually be my real head.
Let’s revisit the point I made early on in this post. I’m 5’2’’ and 110lbs with E boobs. And I was all, hmm I wonder why all the boys have been staring lately. I wonder why the guy at Panera asked me where I got my shirt?
*Note to small boobed girls. I don’t want to hear it.
Sympathy only please.
PS I’m getting the ultrasound as we speak. Or as you read. I will let you know the results tomorrow. Although I’m not sure why I am even bothering. The final results of the vote were 64 to 30: BOY. And this will forever determine my level of trust in internet strangers.
PPS I actually am now paying real live money to have a P.O Box. So I hope you send me some 1) weird shit I can talk about on the blog 2) but not too weird that I get arrested for having it shipped to me 3) Something Planky can actually use. I will have this address linked in the “pay me” section up top.
MODG Blog PO Box 55 Phoenixville, PA 19460