Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Musings On 8th Grade Pregnancy

The thing about being pregnant is that you essentially become a fourteen year old boy. And, since your average fourteen year old boy doesn't get easily knocked up, if you are expecting, chances are you have no clue how to deal with your transformation. What with being female and all. (Was that too much? The female vs male clarification thing? I guess if it was, or if you feel your intelligence was insulted, I'd have to invite you to get the hell over it. Only because your intelligence is already in question based solely on the fact that you're reading this.)

Right, so the fourteen year old boy thing. For one, I have no effing clue what my body's doing half the time. And the other half, I'm honestly wishing for my old body back. Yeah, it's that bad. I'm a freaking mess. I'm like one of the bad kids from Willy Wonka. Parts of me will randomly expand or relocate and I'll run into the door frame because I don't know my own dimensions anymore. I can only assume this is what puberty feels like (which is not to say that I've never gone through puberty, but as I understand it, males grow in short bursts and I recall no short bursts when I was going through my special time. Because I was so drunk. During puberty. Booze. Shut up).

Moving right along to the acne, which, instead of being a moderate mid-twenties annoyance that's easy enough to conceal, suddenly it's in insanely obvious places, such as my jawline. Which is only really noticeable when I, like, eat. Or laugh. Or talk. I'm talking for two now, so consider, if you will, how often I'm talking these days. And if you don't talk to me often, use the final length of this post as your answer to the "how wordy is she?" question. I'm a total grease ball here, kids. It's disgusting.

Also, I've completely ceased to be fun to be around. I keep attempting to hang out with the Cool Kids, and getting tired around 9:13 at night does not bode well. And the harder I try to be exciting and entertaining and fun and essentially not sucky, the more tired I get. And then I may or may not cry in the car on my (early) way home because I'm so damn boring and no one wants to be around me and everyone else is having so much fun and I'm the slow boat to Crap Town and only Nate really wants to spend a lot of time with me and that's only because he's Baby Daddy and he has to. Fourteen year olds and constantly trying to look cooler than they actually are. That's my point.

Oh! And another thing! This stupid sex obsession! And I don't mean in any sort of enjoyable way. More in a 'should I, could I, how do I do it if I both should and could?', etc. I feel all stupid and awkward and ugly and ridiculous. (If you didn't feel bad for Nate before, now's your chance). Oh, I'm sorry. Was that really personal? Is it weird, me talking about sex? Yeah, I completely understand how this is all really shocking to you, what with me getting pregnant and all. Google it, dumby.

Maybe it's not like puberty. Maybe it's more just completely weird and it's freaky not knowing what I'm doing. Barf. How lucky are you to come along for this particular ride?

Although, I would like to point out that I keep staring at hot women wanting their bodies and there's a big tube of Palmer's Cocoa Butter on my nightstand. Pssh. Completely like a fourteen year old boy.

1 comment:

  1. I seriously have NOT laughed this hard from reading something in....well, NEVER! You NEED to write a book , seriously. I've all of a sudden become obsessed with you now that I took the time to hunt you down and stalk you on facebook! I remember you were really funny but WOW what you put into words makes my day SO much better! You're friggin soooooo funny! xoxo

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