Maybe I’m a bitch

bitches get shit done
I might be a bitch, but I'm a nice one!

 

I don’t feel like a bitch… but when I’m fighting with my husband and he makes valid points (hate when he does this) sometimes I wonder if I’m too much of a hard ass. Too judgmental. Too cool for school.

It’s not the first time I’ve been accused of these things, but I’ve really only begun to consider the possibility recently. Obviously this isn’t something I want for myself, my family, or friends. And I do have friends… which is a good indication that I’m not a bitch, right?

Perhaps I’m being too general. I can be bitchy, how’s that? I can be overly snarky for sure, and hard on people and situations, and my standards are way high on a lot of different criteria.

These are things I could probably tone down a bit. You know, be more positive. Be less harsh.

I’ve also been accused of being hormonal and third-trimestery… to which I say Bullocks! I’m FINE!

In any case, maybe I should reflect on my hard edges, my snarky remarks, my defensive retorts, and my need to be too cool for school. Yeaouch. It hurts just to think about all this stuff.

In my own defence… the wise Tina Fey once pointed out that Bitches Get Shit Done!

What to expect in the Third Trimester

So I’m almost there…. and I’d be convinced I was giving birth to a traffic cone/small bear if I hadn’t seen that ultrasound.

Other than waking up unable to breathe right, pins and needles in my hands, and the sensation that my hips have been glued into some sort of cro-magnon position, I sleep fine!

No, sleep isn’t coming that easy, but it’s worth it, just to feel that small elbow, knee, foot. The sensation makes me almost weep with happiness.

And while it’s true that the things happening or not happening in the washroom are becoming more relevant than things that happen or don’t happen in the bedroom….I don’t really care!

I fantasize about nursery colors, rocking chairs and the importance of zoo animals….

Standing is like holding a small microwave. Sitting is like Jabba the hut. Lying down is like being under a bowling ball.

I’ve mastered this facial expression: Give-me-that-seat-cant’-you-see-how-fucking-pregnant-I-am.

The word MuuMuu comes to mind when considering what  to wear….

I used to be civilized. Nowadays, whimpering, farting, sighing, and grunting, are all fair game….Pant removal is the second best part of my day. Bra removal is the first.

Not. Much. Longer. Right? Promise?