The Uterus Monologues
Y'all know that recipe for Neiman Marcus chocolate chip cookies that appears in your email inbox every so often? The next time it makes the rounds, do yourself a favor and print it out. Those cookies beat the shit out of Tollhouse! I credit the oatmeal and the FOUR HERSHEY BARS you grate into the batter. I might be the only person foolish enough to try the recipe in the first place, but I'm also the one sitting fat and happy with a tummy full of cookies. I should just paste them right onto my uterus, though, since she demanded them in the first place. Damn PMS!
Speaking of uteruses (uteri?), I had a surreal experience this morning. I was taking out the trash in the 6 o'clock hour when Pregnant Neighbor accosted me. "I want to show you my belly!" she exclaimed. "Uh, okay," I said. And faster than I could say "boundaries," she pulled up her shirt, tugged down her sweats, and displayed a tiny, tiny bump. "Wow," I said (I'm v. articulate first thing in the morning). "I know! It's got to be a girl! My ultrasound is on the 10th and I'm going to know for sure then. Want to hear the names I picked out?" she bubbled. I chatted with her for a few more minutes, then excused myself to start mopping. When I got inside, I realized something: I never thought the first naked pregnant belly I ever saw in real life would be the belly of a relative stranger. I always thought it would be the belly of a beloved friend or sister-in-law*; she'd tell me she was pregnant and we'd cry and hug and drink International Coffees in a sunlit room in celebration of our Special Moment. After today's ambivalent encounter in our gritty South Worcester neighborhood, I can tell you I much prefer the fantasy.
And speaking of fantasies, how much do I want to be YelloCello's friend? I bet she'd indulge my Sisterhood is Powerful Jean-Luc daydreams. Her description of playing her cello to her baby and cats is beautiful and powerful, and her writing is rich and evocative. If you can't make those stupid Neiman Marcus cookies, you can pamper yourself by reading her post from Sunday. Lovely, no?
*No pressure, Orca.
Speaking of uteruses (uteri?), I had a surreal experience this morning. I was taking out the trash in the 6 o'clock hour when Pregnant Neighbor accosted me. "I want to show you my belly!" she exclaimed. "Uh, okay," I said. And faster than I could say "boundaries," she pulled up her shirt, tugged down her sweats, and displayed a tiny, tiny bump. "Wow," I said (I'm v. articulate first thing in the morning). "I know! It's got to be a girl! My ultrasound is on the 10th and I'm going to know for sure then. Want to hear the names I picked out?" she bubbled. I chatted with her for a few more minutes, then excused myself to start mopping. When I got inside, I realized something: I never thought the first naked pregnant belly I ever saw in real life would be the belly of a relative stranger. I always thought it would be the belly of a beloved friend or sister-in-law*; she'd tell me she was pregnant and we'd cry and hug and drink International Coffees in a sunlit room in celebration of our Special Moment. After today's ambivalent encounter in our gritty South Worcester neighborhood, I can tell you I much prefer the fantasy.
And speaking of fantasies, how much do I want to be YelloCello's friend? I bet she'd indulge my Sisterhood is Powerful Jean-Luc daydreams. Her description of playing her cello to her baby and cats is beautiful and powerful, and her writing is rich and evocative. If you can't make those stupid Neiman Marcus cookies, you can pamper yourself by reading her post from Sunday. Lovely, no?
*No pressure, Orca.
posted by Clementine at 12:44 PM
3 Comments:
I am v. lucky gal to come home tonight to all the cookies in the house!
Wait a minute, you've never seen a naked pregnant belly? How is that possible? Weird... I think I saw about 50 before I was 10. I guess I was living among the hippies, unlike you. The John Denver type hippies, that is. ;)
I've seen naked pregnant bellies at the beach or at Target, but never the belly of someone I actually know. Isn't that strange?
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