There�s a Tear in My Non-Alcoholic Beer
GURGLE . . . BLURBLE . . .GURP . . .
(GASP!)
Sorry � just coming up for air from the OCEAN OF MY TEARS to write this.
Seriously people . . . I haven�t cried this much since the months before I was diagnosed with clinical depression (including the infamous Five Day Crying in Bed All Day and Subsequently Causing Me to Lose My Job saga.)
Okay � so I�m not crying at this very moment � because I�m at work and I have to keep it together (AND I�m still on Prozac � which, might I add, my doctor HAS APPROVED!)
Friday was okay. Friday night we had a beautifully healthy dinner at Kamado�s and then went to the new Whole Foods � which might I add was INCREDIBLE! I�ve never been to one. Thank GOD Baton Rouge now has one because HOW have I LIVED without the GELATO BAR all this time!?!?! And you know � I heard the gelato scooper girls saying that it was much lighter than ice cream because it�s made from milk instead of cream.
I also enjoyed the chocolate dipping station � where I was handed a free chocolate covered macaroon by a smiling employee. I think I stared into the chocolate fountain for far too long, though. To tell the truth �it was kinda like being in Wonka�s factory.
Anyway � so then Saturday . . . ah Saturday.
It was decided that we�d go car shopping that day (a tearful and horrific experience for anyone other than P. Diddy) and so that meant that the Beetle had to be cleansed and purified.
Okay � so I�m not the cleanest person in the world. Okay � so I keep a messy car. Okay � so the very fact that I keep a messy car made Chad almost not ask me out again after our first date.
You see where this is going . . .
Angry words are exchanged amidst me carrying in all manner of items from the car and into the house or trashcan� (the shoes I wore in my sister�s wedding last November, a variety of Rubbermaid dishes that I carried my lunch to work in, CDs, old magazines, more CDs, shriveled French fries, notebooks, at least 7 bags with books or papers in them, thousands of crumpled receipts . . . you get the idea).
And this of course, leads to the whole Ginger, how can you expect me to trust you with a new car when I see how you�ve treated this one. . . line of conversation.
Anyway � so the crying begins and escalates � there are accusations on all levels (by me of course) � there are conspiracy theories.
Somehow � it manages to work itself out. I don�t even remember how, because I was drunk with emotions.
So � we head out to the KIA dealership (as shameful as that is to admit.) Okay � so we don�t have the best credit track record and we want to get something relatively decent but we�re not in the market for a Lincoln Navigator for GODSSAKE!
Nightmare!
First the saleswoman (which I thought would be a refreshing turn of events) wanted to sell us some Optima piece of shit which to me looked strangely like Gary Hart�s face. Don�t ask me where I got this from � but I was repulsed.
I don�t know . . .
What do you think?
Annnyway � I don�t want to go into too many details about it � because it�s just so ridiculous. I will say that it was hot � that I was bitchy and that several car salesmen and one woman were probably praying for my death by the end of the day.
I mean � since when did they start making damn cars so SMALL! And I�m talking about the insides of the cars � because the outsides of the bitches are gigantic. I�m sitting in the seat and the steering wheel is touching my thigh. And I�m like �there is no way this is going to see me through month nine. I mean � if the airbag deployed and hit my stomach that was maybe one inch away from the wheel it would KILL MY CHILD! (I think I actually yelled this at some point.)
We almost got a Mazda Tribute � which was quite roomy and would have easily seen me through month nine. Hell � the Beetle would, surprisingly, but it�s not an infant friendly car � as far as trying to get a child in and out of it.
Anyway � we didn�t. I�m glad because I found out it had rolled over in some test. AND it was a gas guzzler.
Sunday � I just cried all day for a myriad of reasons. Chad was being his usual gross �smell my finger� self and it made me burst into tears and feel rejected and fat. I cried about Mr. B and his fleas. I cried about the tuna steak I�d eaten for dinner the night before, after I�d accidentally read an article about mercury poisoning in the copy of Fit Pregnancy in the bathroom. I cried about how fat I am and how I�m going to go into orbit in just a few weeks. I cried about my lack of self control with food.
I just felt sooooooooo shitty about everything. Mostly I feel alone � wishing there was some other obese pregnant girl I could hang out with. And I feel guilty � thinking that my super-size is going to render the baby handicapped in some way. And I keep thinking � sooner or later, someone�s going to get ugly with me. Someone�s going to say the words I fear the most: You had no business getting pregnant at this size.
I just feel so different. People around me talk about pregnancy and when they were pregnant, etc. But it�s not the same for me. I�m not going to see my belly button pop out. I�m not going to get the linea negra. I�m not going to be cute during this time. Ever. I�m not going to hurt in 2 months- I�m hurting NOW. I�m just terrified because I keep thinking that none of the norms apply to me and that I�m just venturing into this alone. And that nothing I read from other pregnant women really applies to me because I�m so fat. It�s DAMN DEPRESSING.
Anyway � I had managed to stop crying until I got a call from my stepmother. She was calling to ask if I�d seen Simone�s baby (my old ex-best friend that I wrote about here.
You see, my stepmother has a way of dropping little bombs on people. I�ve noticed this. She won�t just ask you �Did you know Simone had her baby?� she�ll say �Have you seen Simone�s baby yet?� � which somehow makes it worse. Because she assumes that I knew. I mean she knew, so. . . Oh wait � you didn�t know? Oh well . . . I would have thought . . . I hope I�m explaining this well enough.
Anyway � turns out she had the baby last week sometime � don�t know when. AND I wasn�t called. It made me so sad. AND she had a girl.
So that began a whole new cycle of hysteria.
I didn�t get out of the house yesterday � but I�d dried up at about 3 or so. We then proceeded to watch the Good Times marathon and now I know that line is really �hanging in a chow line� right before they say �Ain�t we lucky we got em.�
Anyway � that�s my sad weekend. Sorry to be so blue � but the pregnancy book said writing about it was good.
