Thirty-Something or Tween Nightmare?

Caution (especially men and never been preg. women: read at your own risk.

Being pregnant is the closest thing I can equate to what it must be like at your peak of horrific-ness in middle school. More than ever, I can relate to my students, only I would never share this information with them as it definitely falls under Section XVI of TMI. In laymen’s terms, it would cross some serious lines. Instead, I will just share with you. Some of you asked for the bitter truth, and you know I have a penchant for being brutally, stripped down, honest. So, just in time for Halloween, here is my own laundry list of horrors.

1. I have zits. Like a tween, my skin is unpredictable. One day I am clear, the next day it looks like someone wiped their sweaty foot infested with athlete’s foot across the right side of chin. I even went to a dermatologist JUST to make sure my skin was reacting to my raging, baby making hormones and he said; “Get used to it. This could get worse.” Great. He unfortunately could not prescribe me “the good stuff”, and the smelly, clear fluid that I have been applying to my face is merely just smelly, clear fluid with one refill available.
I don’t think I need to explain how zits relate to middle schoolers.
** I HAD DECENT SKIN IN MIDDLE SCHOOL. It balanced out my fat.

2. My boobs. I go to bed one size and wake up another. Today my bra was so damn tight I felt like I needed CPR, a nebulizer and an inhaler all at once. I have had to purchase 38’s which really pissed me off; no matter what my weight has been, I have always been a 36 MAX, but I have to remember, my body is just spewing the hormone relaxin, so every freaking joint and muscle is literally relaxing in an effort to make room for my growing fetus. This topic will throw me into somewhat of a tangent, as I do not understand why my legs, especially my ankles, need to be more relaxed when this baby is coming out of my vaj. God is definitely a man. Imagine if relaxin flowed through a man’s body, causing his penis to not only expand but lie flaccid, a little to the left?

So how do boobs relate to middle schoolers? When the girls come back from the summer between 7th and 8th grade, you might think they visited a plastic surgeon...

3. My ass. The smell that I release from my body is strong enough to put a small animal to sleep and knock an average size one out for a couple of hours. I am a walking cesspool of filth. My gas rivals a tween boy, and even a good friend of mine who I prefer to use the litter box when he stays over as I fear he will overflow my toilet. Yet, look who’s talking; I think I raped my own toilet bowl the other night as a result of eating fro yo (I am living on the edge as many shun the soft serve style machines while pregnant to avoid listeria. I say eff that….i haven’t had sushi or more importantly alcohol since July. I am eating frozen yogurt.) AND broccoli. Yet luckily for me and those around me, I manage to control myself while at work. It is only when I exit my workplace that the floodgates open. This would be a good time to apologize to the woman in the t-shirt section of Old Navy the other day: I am sorry if you felt faint as a result of being caught in my wake.
So how does my ass relate to middle schoolers? These kids let ‘em rip all of the time!
4. My moods. I am a freakin’ moody bitch. Then, I am sooooo nice. Then, I cry. Then, I imagine punching your face /kneeing you in your balls/ spitting in your face/running you over with my car and I cry again because I cannot believe how off the wall I am. Upon delivery, I have requested a glass of Prosecco to wash down my Effexor.
So how do moods relate to middle schoolers? Have you met one? Were you not once one?

5. My weight. I don’t know what I weigh and unless the doctor gives me a ten pound warning, I am assuming I’m all good. I am an avid reader, yet the one thing I have not purchased books about is pregnancy. A friend of mine gave me a few anyway; I had a terrible dream after reading one, a dream that honed in on one of my fears (faulty feeding-boobs) and I then vowed to stop reading. However, one of the things I read that really pissed me off was regarding exercise. Apparently, t his author believed there was no point in exercising during pregnancy. I would love to see what this chick’s ass looked like when she was knocked up. Listen, I know I am eating more and probably better than I have in a while. I know my ass will probably widen simply because Mother Nature is really a tranny dude, but I am a gym rat. I like to sweat. My psyche needs the workout and no matter what anyone says, EXERCISE IS GOOD FOR YOU ALWAYS as long as you don’t overdue it. The catch with exercise for a prego is that you are not supposed to go above 140 BPMs. Please humor yourself if you are a fellow worker-outer. Put on a heart rate monitor and see how fast you reach 140 BPMs. If you are conditioned, it will take about 3 seconds. I have to believe that when I can go back to my control-freak diet that includes few carbs, little pizza and zone bars, I will lose the weight I have put one when combined with the ability to sweat again. This former fat girl still struggles with the day to day, but I definitely prefer being out of breath from a good cardio session over walking up a flight of stairs with the most resistance coming from fat rolls.
So how does weight relate to middle school? Fat girls getting made fun of, low self esteem, eating disorders….I look in the mirror everyday and remind myself that I am not fat, I am pregnant. Those girls look in the mirror everyday and hopefully don’t remind themselves they are fat because they are pregnant.

6. I just want to get drunk. Seriously. Tweens drink and if they aren’t yet, they want to. Just a little. Research shows that pregnant woman can have a glass of wine here and there without causing harm to the fetus, yet I would have to err on the side of caution and say just put the juice on hold. But I have to tell you, it is hard. This year, my kids are a handful at work. A glass of wine or a gin and tonic (or 6) at the end of the day (3:00) would really make things more bearable. It’s funny. Someone asked me if I have weird cravings and aside from the Chinese sliced pork, it has been wine, not pickles and ice cream.
What’s the relationship between alcohol and middle schoolers? The kids are getting drunk and I am not.

All kidding aside, I cannot complain. Knock on wood, the remainder of my pregnancy (22 weeks) will go smoothly and I will deliver a healthy, happy baby who hopefully will not be as bitchy/dicky as me. If bad gas and the craving for alcohol are my biggest problems, then I consider myself lucky.