Where have I been?
I feel like I’ve been answering that a lot lately. To be fair to myself and avoid any responsibility, I blame Yoshe.
Where do I begin…
Most of you have been reading with me from the very beginning. I love that, because when I write, I genuinely feel like I’m talking to friends. Again, this is #21 on the list of things to discuss with a therapist. But I always forget that there are those of you who haven’t been reading from the beginning. And thank Bravo TV for those people because that’s how this little blog gets bigger and fancier. But those of you who are relatively new don’t always get me, my sense of humor or my notgiveashit attitude. Which is ok. You don’t have to get it. It’s my job to make this blog a “get free” zone.
And for the most part I’m cool with it. I’m cool with the random super sensitive comment. Or the nasty one. Listen, I dish it, I better be able to take it. That is until something happened called trimester 3.
Trimester 3 is a tricky thing my friends. Well, I should say, this pregnancy with this child at this moment is a damn telenovela. I know this because every day at the same time, I see the same commercial on TLC for Medium where she tells that little boy that she’s talking to his dead father and I sob. FOR AN HOUR. EVERY DAY.
I know, why don’t I just change the channel? Why did I order leather maternity leggings? Some questions really just can’t be answered. But what I’m trying to say here is that my emotions are not in check right now. I can’t handle anything. I’m REALLY angry at sporadic weather patterns one minute and I’m sobbing at my lack of Halloween costume inspiration the next. And this is new for me. Being preg with G, I was all…oh dead baby rabbits? Whatever.
So when we have comment wars or people telling me that I’m insensitive to Hungarian bakers who are middle children currently living in Detroit, I really can’t deal. And it’s not your fault. Like I said, I dish it. I need to take it. And “martinis” MODG could take it. Man could she take it. I read that old shit and I’m like, damn that’s a tough bitch. DG MODG is a flowery pansy. Well, preg with a girl at 30 weeks MODG is a flowery pansy. I’m praying things go back to prep punching normal after my vagina evacuates.
But I’m a firm believer on this blog in being honest, being me and telling you all like it is. So when I’m sobbing profanities into my keyboard, I usually make the decision to say nothing at all instead of ICAN’TTAKEITANYMOREICAN’TGOON.
But I’m getting to a better place. At least for now. I credit that to the best 70 dollar Craigslist find ever to happen to a human being. If you follow me on Facebook, you’ve seen it. I know, you’re totally like well, I didn’t see it because I have an app to block when people post furniture to Craigslist. (see? that’s me being moderately crass again. You’re welcome).
And after this melodramatic trimester 3 post, I will reward all with a full post on how to find the awesomest shit on Craigslist for cheap without getting murdered. It’s really gold.
Thanks for being patient with me. Pregnant chicks are the worst.