so there are a lot of things that the pregnant women of the world keep from those of us who might be somewhat enamored with the idea of procreation. who doesn't think it's cute to see that little woman, completely thin and smiley and perky, other than that little bun in the oven, traipsing around the mall practically glowing with excitement? -- i certainly did! and then i got pregnant, and all these things happened that "they" don't tell you about!
of course you hear of morning sickness, and they say that your chest grows (but i didn't think that my already enormous breasts would grow to mammoth proportions!), and then there are those little stretch marks "they" tell you you might get on your "baby belly" - which have already appeared on my hips, and butt, thighs... and other places! but even that stuff at least you can somewhat guess might happen when you're gaining weight by the minute. but there is one thing that no pregnant person had ever shared with me until after i was pregnant and already had had the wonderful experience, and that, my friends, is what i intend to warn you of today!
GAS!
i mean whoo, you think your brother and father and boyfriend/husband/ex-significant-other-of-the-male-gender was bad - HOLY COW, a pregnant woman can put them all to shame! i tell you, i can clear a room so thoroughly that I have to leave running lest i pass out from the fumes! generally this embarrassing habit, caused by hormones that slow the contraction of smooth muscle (so you don't randomly have contractions), occurs in the privacy of my own home (sorry andrew), or i can sort of run to a corner/bathroom/area free of people at work and then leave said area so no one knows it was me, AND i guess i could always blame a dog, though i haven't done that yet. but last night, OH last night...
i was sitting with andrew and my friend kristin from work at a mexican restaurant, and we were chowing down on chips, salsa, and queso dip like it was going out of style, chatting about work and animals and various other topics, when, without any warning... I RIPPED ONE! something about the combination of the way i was sitting coupled with the faux leather booth, i tell you i did not even know i had to pass gas, and this thing rumbled the restaurant. there was no denying the fact that i had just farted the loudest fart in the history of time, right in the middle of a sentence, right in the middle of a restaurant! we all burst out laughing, and i said something like, "Well!" -- i am sure that if i were a blushing girl, i would have been three shades of crimson instantly. luckily, i can laugh at myself, and my companions were kind, and after one awkward second of not really knowing how to get back into my story, let alone what the heck i was talking about before this raucous intrusion, i went on like nothing happened. but boy, oh boy, "they" just don't warn you about this stuff!
i tell you this, dear readers, so that you are not left "in the dark"... gasping for breath... and making your husband duck and cover, without at least a warning!
