There's something wrong in the state of Denmark… and I think I may be it.

Tag: urine

I think Hudson and I are reaching an understanding…

He’s going to keep cracking away at my spine and lower intestines and I’m going to wear sneak-a-peek-at-my-vadge skirts and hooker heels to any and all school events going forward. If he doesn’t right himself soon and start kicking my ribs, I’m throwing bright blue eyeliner into the bargain. It’s all up to him now.

Sounds fair.

In other news, my bladder has joined the ranks of my stomach and lungs in being squished to the size of a peanut by my ever expanding inner child.

I was peeing frequently. Now I dribble on the regular.

Further to this, working with a team of miscreants who think nothing of making me laugh myself silly at any given point on any given day, now means all day, every day is a very scary time – urine wise.

What I wouldn’t give for one of those pees that start off with a screaming bladder and end what feels like 30 minutes later with a feeling of blissful relief seldom experienced except in these very instances.

In today’s news, I am pretty much done. I do not know how I’m going to survive the next four weeks. I need this year to be over. Clients are not in agreement. For someone who had always considered maternity leave to be something other people did, I am now quite literally counting down the days. Sure, I think a week or so in, I’m going to be a raging lunatic desperate for adult interaction and conversation, but for now… I can think of nothing more exciting than not having to worry about the mundanity of the end of the year wrap up.

Anybody out there have any tips for making it through December with all your fingernails and hair?


Aaaand the whore moans…

Er… yip. It’s happening. Week two of the third trimester and my hormones have kicked in… but properly.

It’s not as bad as they make out on TV and in movies. I’m not roaring from one side of the hormone fence to the other in a matter of seconds. But things that didn’t make me cry before will see me bawling like a baby and I get highly irritated VERY quickly (which is the scariest part).

A girl who sits near me at work is sick again. Sniffing and snotting and snorting and sneezing and coughing… and the girl who sits near her is following suit.

Now, I don’t hear any hands being put in front of mouths during all of this and the rhythmic sniffing makes me want to jump the divider that separate us, knock her to the floor, hold her by the throat and ram Extra-Heavy Flow Tampax up her nostrils.

Naturally, the work place is no place for physical violence (and it definitely is not in my nature to assault people) but it certainly isn’t a fucking hospital either and these freaking people need to make their way home while they’re all infectious and shit.

Understand this, when I brush my teeth and get to my tongue and the gag reflex kicks in, the chances that I’ll pee a little are huge! If I catch your cough, I will be sitting in a puddle of urine… ALL. DAY. LONG.

Please fuck off home.

I’m taking great strain in bottling all of this in. If you were to ask my colleague, she would be none-the-wiser. But it’s gonna blow, Capt’n. And I fear for the safety of those around when it does.

*Deep breath*

Aside from this, my thyroid levels are on the low side of normal. Which explains the heart palpitations, low/high blood pressure feelings and complete fatigue.

Tip: Don’t shoot for babies if you have Grave’s disease.

Aside from that, the boep is now present and accounted for – as you can tell from today’s blog photo. I cannot see my feet whilst standing up nor my vadge while lying down. I can no longer easily shave my legs or trim my toenails. This last 12 weeks is going to be hairy, scary funsies.

However, I find solace in the knowledge that we are on the right side of nearing the finish line with this pregnancy and if I have to go into it with hairy legs and an unsightly patch, so be it.

Chat soon. Leave comments. No judgement here.Image