One Day He'll be Too Cool for Peek-a-Boo

Thankfully, that time is not yet upon us:

Although, I'm suddenly very aware that too soon that day will come.

GGC

In other, and not so depressing news, I've gone crafty in my quest-for-super-nest and decided to take up sewing. Etsy, here I come?

Congratulations. Your Baby is now the Size of a Donkey's Left Scrotum

Pardon the crudeness of this week's posts, but can we please talk real quick about the Babycenter "this week your baby is the size of a ... (fill in the blank with most obscure vegetable you can think of) ... newsletter"?

Because, uh... This week, my baby is the size of a rutabaga. Which, I mean, a rutabaga? Really? I mean, WHY? And who came up with these randomly obscure to the point of comedy, vegetable/fruit measurement concoctions?

And P.S. does anyone know what "the size of a rutabaga" actually means? I mean, besides the obvious random-wtf re: rutabaga, don't rutabagas differ greatly in size? I mean... Take this trifecta, for instance. Which one looks more like my baby this week?

exhibit A: 25 weeks

The one on the left? Right? The one in the foreground looking to have a threesome with the other two?

Dare I look ahead to twenty-six weeks to read about my baby's size-to-vegetable ratiotics*?

Aha! Just as I suspected!

"Your baby is now the size of (I swear to God, it says this) an English Hothouse Cucumber..." Which apparently is TOTALLY CRAZY DIFFERENT from your basic, garden-variety cucumber. Even though, according to google-images, it looks exactly like every other cucumber I've ever seen:

exhibit B: 26 weeks

Nothing like a giant green phallus to get me excited about my sweet little bundle of joy.

Honestly, and I'm pretty sure I can speak for the majority of all pregnant (and non-pregnant) women when I say this: I'd have a better idea re: the size-to-comparison if this week featured a pair of donkey balls.

Just saying.

GGC

*a made-up word pertaining to vegetable/fruit/fetus ratios.

The Only Bush I Trust... Er, Not Really.

I'm not a fan of hair anywhere but on my head. It's more than just me being not-so-much-a-fan, honestly. I have a bit of a hair-phobia. Too much body hair makes me nervous, which is why I've never waxed anything but my eyebrows in my life -- no way I could wait the necessary time for pits/pubes/leg hair to grow.

photo credit: fashionablygeek.com

I've been shaving my nether regions since the first sight of pubic hair at fourteen and have never experienced a full bush. Ever. That is until my last pregnancy when I couldn't reach or see the southern tip of my torso, thus leading to hair in places I'd never experienced. Luckily I couldn't see what was going on down there so it didn't bother me so much. Even in the mirror my belly covered my downunda and Hal didn't say anything, probably because we were newly dating (eight months) and were still loving on every idiosyncrasy. Or maybe he was just being nice.

This time around, we're mean to each other a lot more comfortable with one another so the other night when I stripped down to nothing, Hal promptly called me out.

"Nice bush, Bec."

"Shut up. Really, omigawd!?"

I ran out of the room, plucked my MAC compact from my makeup bag and went to see for myself. Sure enough, there it was: a hairy downsouth. I almost fainted. Something had to be done. Like, now.

I do realize that hairless vagoos are somewhat controversial around these parts. Many women believe in the power of "the bush" and that's all fine and cool with me. My inability to deal with pubic hair has more to do with the fact I've never had any, not because I want to look like a pre-pubescent or a pornstar.

Growing up my friends and I all shaved our pubes, and not because "boys wanted us to." It was a harmless bonding experience: Sisterhood of the No-pubes-in-our-pants. And as far as I know, none of us ever grew them out again. For me it has always been very comfortable. I shave when I shave my legs and have never dealt with the red-bumps because I'm *usually* very regular with the razor.

Until recently.

Trying to shave ones "south" is no easy task when you have a basketball hanging over your bikini line. I'm not going into details re: how I managed to pull off a quick vagishave. Let's just say, I needed a little assistance and A LOT of bandaids.

Needless to say, anti-bush pregnant woman might want to take a different approach to their pubic region. (Like, say, dishing out the $40 bucks for a Brazilian.)

Meanwhile, I have an Elmo bandaid in my ass-crack.

GGC

And in other news: My wish to give our baby two middle-names was blown to smithereens by Hal and a little something we married folk like to call "compromise."After weeks of negotiations we have settled on ONE middle-name for our babe.