today's a fat day. i feel fat. i look fat. i am fat. i can't fit in anything i wanna wear and i'm really sick of buying clothes to accommodate all this roundness. i really hate when people say there are cute maternity clothes out there. no they're not, asshole. and because i refuse to buy any maternity wear [except my yoga gear!], everything i get has to have some sort of elastic/spandex shit in them. tops are the hardest thing simply because i won't wear maternity jeans or shorts. i can't button any of my regular jeans and shorts so i have to have a longer top to cover all the business going on there. call me whatever you want but that maternity shit has that big ass waistband that comes up to your titties and i'm just not doing it. if it has to come over my pelvic bone, kiss my ass; i'm not wearing it! it's hot and i need to have all my fatness hanging out so it can breathe! dresses either don't fit right, don't feel right, or they're just plain ugly. and don't get me started on these ugly ass bras i have to wear now. would it hurt for someone to design a goddamn maternity and nursing bra that comes in a color besides black, white, and beige. no, it's not "nude", bitch. it's beige. BEIGE GODDAMMIT!

so, here i am in a cami and my husband's sweatpants. he thinks it's cute and sexy when i wear his pants and if i weren't looking like a pot-bellied pig, i probably would too; but i'm not wearing this shit by choice. it's the only thing that fits! oh, why did i let him do this to me? do you know how many weddings and parties and other events that would call for me to get all dressed up i have missed just because i don't want to go through the ordeal that is shopping for my pregnant ass? DOZENS! i have to psych myself out just to go out to dinner with my husband. that selfish bastard. he hasn't gained an ounce of fat since i've been pregnant. nope, asshole has only gained 6 pounds of muscle. it's not fair because i eat healthy, exercise regularly, and here i am with 24 and a quarter extra pounds, and i'm supposed to gain more. and i really hate all those people who write those 'what to expect' books about pregnancy. i should be writing one about the shit they don't tell you, like how you gotta use half a stick of butter just to get a goddamn ring off your finger and then spend 20 minutes arguing with your husband cause he's all offended you just used butter on the precious piece of shit he spent his precious shit of money on and now he's gotta get it cleaned so it doesn't get ruined. i know you read this shit so fuck you, you asshole. if it's worth as much as you spent on it, you would soak that shit in some jewelry cleaner, have a coke and fucking smile. bitch. and no, i'm not cooking dinner. ask that woman who's in there doing the laundry all kinds of wrong to make your sorry ass dinner, mr. i can't go away with my PREGNANT WIFE for the weekend cause football season has started. i really hope you don't think you're going to that tennessee/florida game next month cause it ain't happenin'.

oh, and just a little while ago, i was laying down, my niece was rubbing my bare belly, talking to Ava, and enjoying her little movements. then, she starts rubbing the area below my belly button with her finger. i thought it was a little odd, but i didn't really care because it's the first time she's been quiet since she's been here. then, she stops, looks at my belly, licks her finger, and goes to rubbing again. "girl, what the hell are you doing?" "trying to get that dirt off your stomach. didn't you take a bath this morning?"

so i get up and look in the mirror and ask what she's talking about. she points to my linea nigra, "see, look. it's a line of dirt from there to there. that's nasty, tia. you need to go take a bath and wash yourself the right way." i didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so i did both because now, i'm fat AND dirty.

sometimes, i really dislike people.
--i refused to spellcheck @ 2:28 PM | |