Whoa is Me

My hormones have decided to kick in. The ones that make me cry. I hate that. At least they don't make me want to kill people. Oh, wait. Yes they do. Here's a little example of my little pitty party that I've been throwing that no one wants to be invited to. The night before last, I had a dream that Mike decided to confess to me that he had fooled around with a girl from the gym at a party. No sex mind you, but everything else. That was supposed to make me feel better. All he said was her name was Sarah. Who the hell is Sarah?!!! In the dream, I kept asking him to tell me everything while at the same time not wanting to know. I was also very pregnant in the dream and had no ability to do a damn thing about it. Meaning, since I was pregnant, I did not find it appropriate to gauge anyone's eyes out with forks and bash heads in with a baseball bat. Violent, I know, but this is my love life we're talking about. In any case, this stupid dream bugged me all day. Usually, stuff like that doesn't get to me. I'm very secure in my relationship and my self esteem is pretty strong. Well, that all ran down the toilet last night. We'd been invited to a Halloween party and Mike really wants to go. So do I, but...I know what to expect there. So does he. The guys always have humorous costumes on and the girls all dress slutty. Not only do they all dress slutty, they all look great doing so. Most of these girls are girls that go to the gym, so they are all in awesome shape. At last year's party I looked sweet. I was a naughty school girl. Mike was very proud to have me on his arm. This year...yikes. Mike thought it would be hilarious if I were to wear something "dirty" but with my belly sticking out. Ummm, that might make people sick. It would be funny for about the first 10 minutes and then I'd be asked to "cover that shit up." I spent a good hour or more looking up costumes. How could I find anything that was going to be somewhat sexy and yet hide the bump? Nothing exists. The maternity costumes are built for "plus size" women. I'm pregnant in my belly, not my ass, thighs, arms, and neck. This got discouraging after a while. I decided to go upstairs and try on my little naughty school girl costume from last year. Probably not the wisest decision I've made in a while. I hollered to Mike to check it out. It wasn't as funny as he thought it would be. In fact, it was a bit depressing. As I started to pick up the room and pull the way-too-small costume off my body, I found my eyes start to weld up. I announced to Mike that my hormones have officially taken over. "What do you mean?" I walked up to him and lost it. I feel so god damn ugly right now. I'm trying so hard to keep myself cute in all the areas that I have some control over, but it feels like it is all in vain. I explained how hard it is to grasp the concept of how "fun" it will be to go to this party where all the beautiful women are going to be and I'm going to just be big. I was scared that Mike wasn't going to find me attractive and ultimately won't want to have much to do with me until well after Farrah is born and my ass is back to being it's tight cute little self again. I couldn't stop crying. I love him so much I think I would lose my mind if he lost interest. Even typing this, I get a lump in my throat. I'm so pathetic. He gave me a big hug and coaxed me out of my crazy thoughts and reminded me that he does still find me attractive and that this is not the time to even really care about how I look. It doesn't matter to him right now, and it shouldn't matter to me. It's not what's important.

I felt much better after that, but it only took about 5-10 minutes to start feeling weepy again. I started feeling kicks and now, I felt a huge rush of incredible guilt. How could I possibly be so f-ing selfish? This pregnancy is not about me, it's about my daughter. I know I'm scared about what this pregnancy can do to my body, but it's as if I forgot what it was all about. I brought this to Mike's attention. He explained that that was what he meant when he said it doesn't matter to him right now and that it shouldn't matter to me. He told me, come this summer, if I haven't lost anything and have in fact gained weight without even trying to watch what I eat or hit the gym, that would be when he'd get concerned. Now's not the time.

So, this morning I felt much better about myself. I got up, took a shower, picked up a little bit, and went out back to pick up Titan's massive shits. As I was cleaning things up, a new depressing thought entered my head. How on earth am I going to be able to give Titan the attention he needs after the baby is born? He's my dog. I feed him, I take him to the vet, I take him to the groomers, I buy him his treats, and most importantly I scoop his poop. I know how exhausted I'm going to be because I get told all the time. I will have my hands full with baby. I will be healing the trauma between my legs. I will be working on getting schedules going. I will sneak in naps in between diaper changes and feedings. What the hell am I supposed to do about my dog so that he doesn't get left entirely on the back burner? After I finished cleaning up, I came inside and sat down with Mike. And I said it. " I've been thinking, and I feel it would be in our and Titan's best interest to find him a new home before Farrah is born." Waterworks. Mike looked at me and said that he thought I was crazy. Why would I intentionally think of sad things that are really unnecessary right now? I went down my list of concerns, and Mike made some suggestions on what I can do to try to make things easier. I cleaned up my wet face and started to feel a little better. I decided to take Titan with me on my errands today. That way I was able to spend some one on one time with him, which he loves. It made me feel better, too. Until, of course, he couldn't stop farting, I was sure he was going to shit in my car, but instead he barfed. Aghh. I think he loves me. With dry eyes, I cleaned the barf, patted my dog on the head and went home. I am not very excited to see what the next thing will be that will set me off.

In case you were wondering, Mike and I came up with a cute plan for my costume. I'm sorry to disappoint any of you, but I will not be doing the cat's butthole. Although funny, not "cute" enough for the crowd we'll be hanging with. Mike suggested a black tube top, black pants and shoes, with a jack-o-lantern around the belly region. I think I'll be able to pull that off and not feel too uncomfortable around all the hot babes. If not, I could always whip out some tears and have all the attention on me if I feel like the rest of the women are getting a little too much...especially from Mr. Moody.