hot wings and long walks.

Last week when the temperatures refused to drop below 120º I was in full force psycho mode.  The weather man may use terms like “heat index” to show you, the every day Joe, how you may interpret the incredible heat when paired with our incredible humidity. But what they don’t estimate is the temperature at which a full term pregnant woman feels 100º plus weather.  And I’m here to tell you that you don’t feel it.  You become it.  You transform into a fire breathing radiator of anger and UV rays.  It’s truly a scientific marvel.  And it’s suddenly everyone’s favorite topic of life when they see a large pregnant woman and suddenly realize that while they may feel as if they are suffering through a true midwest heat wave, they themselves do not have a child trapped inside of them ALSO creating and radiating heat.  And they may say “oh man…that looks awful” or “HOW MUCH LONGER DO YOU HAVE?”, but they always do it with this smirk that actually says “You deserve this”.  And maybe I do.  But for the love of everything holy, I wish my water would break right now just so I could splash it in your eye.  And that’s just me being honest.

That all being said, my husband has been pretty awesome this past week or so in helping me try to evict our little space heater.  We’ve been taking nightly walks and he’s been encouraging me to eat every spicy thing that I may be able to stomach (as well as a barrage of other suggestions we received concerning how to encourage a baby to be born that I won’t discuss here because this is a family blog and said things should be kept secret between a man and wife, but you can assume as much or as little as you want on that one).  However, we are still 13 days out from our due date and this dude isn’t budging.  In fact, my doctor even decided that at some point they had overestimated my progression and he moved me back a centimeter.  Least encouraging doctors appointment ever.  And I’ve even had a doctor tell me I had a toothy hairy tumor. That wasn’t encouraging.  This was less so.

So no news is good news I suppose.  I’m fatter and hotter than normal.  And by normal I mean I’m fatter and hotter than you who is reading this more than likely.  And I’m doing my best to remain calm and collected even when strangers ask me about my “twins”.  Also in a fit of hormones and sweaty pits, I chopped off all my hair.  The End.

That last part isn’t a joke.  The hair is significantly shorter and I have sweaty arm pits.  Deal with it.