When Doody Calls

Kim: Ew!

Eddie: What?

Kim: I’m reading about stupid shower games. Apparently there’s one called “Name That Poopy.” (Reading from “Great Expectations: Your All-in-One Resource for Preganancy and Childbirth”) : Microwave different types of bite-sized chocolate bars of different flavors, and put them at the bottom of a diaper. Guests reach in and try to guess the candy bars by feel. Winner gets the “doody” prize.

Eddie: Ew! That’s disgusting! Throw that book away right now! I can’t trust anything in a book that actually says that.

Kim: Does this have anything to do with your melted-chocolate phobia?

Eddie: Well, yeah.

July 29, 2007. Poop, Pregnancy. Leave a comment.

The No-Look Pass

Last night Eddie and I went to the gym. The receptionist said, “You two look vaguely familiar.” Yep, it’s been that long.

Lightning precluded our swim workout, so we shot a few hoops on the basketball court instead. It reminded me how bad I am at any sport that involves throwing or catching a ball. I was raised in a discipline (slalom) that favors the coaching mantra, “Don’t look at the ball.” (Skier speak for, “Don’t look at the buoy, because you’ll run right over it.”) This ingrained reflex is pretty hard to unlearn.

So I didn’t have my eye on the ball when Eddie shot me a “no-look pass.” It hit me square in the face, knocking me flat on my back like a bowling pin. Instead of stars, I saw flashback scenes from second grade dodgeball.

And he thinks waterskiing is dangerous.

July 25, 2007. Pregnancy. Leave a comment.

Testing the Limits of Spandex

Yesterday my wonderful mom spent more than an hour outside a dressing room as I ransacked the local sporting goods store for that elusive swimsuit. Poor Mom got trapped in the unenviable position of giving honest opinions as I shoe-horned my Mr. Potato Head silhouette into more than two dozen suits.

“You don’t look THAT pregnant,” she said assuringly. “Hey, you can’t stop progress!”

I love you, mom. Thanks for always loving everything I write, and reassuring me that I look svelte when we both know that the pink elephant in the dressing room is, well, me.

As the reject pile reached knee-high, I found a contender: a solid one-piece Speedo. But how will it fit two months from now? Four? In maternity shops, dressing rooms come equipped with a strap-on bump, a prosthetic belly that gives you an approximate, lumpy idea of what you’ll look like in a few months. Not so at a sporting goods store named Dick’s. So I wadded up the contents of the reject pile and stuffed it in the suit.

Thank god for the miracle of Spandex.

July 21, 2007. Pregnancy. Leave a comment.

Bathing Suit SOS

So if the baby’s growing in my belly, why is my butt expanding?

I asked my friend Betsy, a Pilates instructor who looked like an orange on a toothpick when she was pregnant with twins. “It’s the body’s way of staying in proportion,” she explained. Sort of like a counterweight? Hmm. My belly’s still has a long way to grow. Greeeaaat.

This matter is complicating my desperate search for a swimsuit that will see me through the summer. (Four months along, I’m somewhere between beer gut and canteloupe.) Problem is, most maternity bathing suits are, by my definition, unwearable: either 2cute n’ frilly (little skirts), vampy (zebra trim), or just plain hideous (tent dress). Speedo doesn’t make maternity suits, and so one is left to (A) let it all hang out in a bikini (how Demi Moore), or (B) attempt to cover it up with a sartorial absurdity that’s about as effective as hiding a watermelon under a doily.

I see a business opportunity, ya’ll.

July 12, 2007. Tags: , . Pregnancy. Leave a comment.