Belly ache

29 Dec

Atlanta's own pickle chugger

On a recent episode of the Real Housewives of Atlanta, Phaedra and Apollo had a photog come over and capture Phaedra sitting on the deck steps in a tank top while sucking on a forearm size pickle that Apollo was lovingly holding for her.   Cue the Casio music and musk incense now.  What. A. Classy. Mommy Moment.

Classy baby holder

Back in my fertility heyday, pregnancy was a gift from the Baby Jesus, and was treated as such.  Being pregnant meant that you were in the process of fulfilling your highest evolutionary destiny.  And it said other things about you, too.  It said that you were, at the very least, in a regular relationship, financially secure enough and a planner.  A budding mother’s swelling belly wasn’t intended to be tarted up and put on parade.  It was meant to be swathed in a nice, feminine floral print and revered.  Think Lady Di, she did it just right.  You weren’t supposed to plaster-cast it like Jimi Hendrix’ most famous instrument.  Or paint it like a pumpkin on Halloween.  No one called it a bump; it was a bun and it stayed in the oven, with the door shut, until it was finished.

This is not what regular people look like

The sea-change of outing your pregnancy can be pinpointed to when Demi Moore posed for THAT Vanity Fair cover in 1991.  But that was famous, rich, pretty, photo-shopped Demi Moore.  Despite it’s shock value, it was tasteful by today’s standards.  Somewhere along the line, maybe during the call center genesis, Indian culture hit the pregnancy circuit and women were putting jewels in their shallow belly buttons or encircling them with henna Mehndi tattoos and wearing midriff bearing sari style dresses.  Then it got figured out that there isn’t enough derma-blend to cover nor shea butter to minimize the stretchmarks.  Cue the move to wearing low-cut, tiiiight tube dresses.  Besides, just ‘cause you’re preggers don’t mean you can’t be sexy, right?  Whaaaa?  Why the need to be sexy?  If she’s knocked up, clearly she’s got game.  Duh.

What for?

Pregnant Chicken, a girl with more time than I do, has spent countless hours gathering a collection of pictures from far and wide and calling them “Awkward Pregnancy Photos”.  You can check it out, but I warn you: These are not for those who are adverse to much.  Think People of Walmart on Clomid and government cheese.

Lucille Ball's sexy maternity look

For the life of me, or the two that sprang from me, I cannot imagine wanting to memorialize the dumpiest, most uncomfortable and freaked out time of my life in any kind of way.  I can still see a photo from a baby shower and wince.  I like how Lucille Ball hid behind cabinet doors and divans while incubating Ricky Jr.  on I Love Lucy.  But then again, I was raised right and have exceptionally good taste…just ask my Glamour Shots consultant.   Maybe being pregnant has simply lost its panache for me and now it’d just be knocked up.  Who knows?  That ship has sailed.  However, I know chicks that are plugging away at population expansion today.  Holla to Kim, Jeanne and Katie.   I wonder if any of them will have the guts to buck the current trend and go retro with a “Baby on Board” tunic, some cotton paneled drawstring jeans and a pair of moccasins.

Advertisements

2 Responses to “Belly ache”

  1. Jennifer December 29, 2010 at 9:04 pm #

    Sweet lord the photos at Pregnant Chicken are hilarious. Another great post, ma’am!

  2. Laurel December 30, 2010 at 10:26 am #

    Sing it loud, sistah!

    Were you at my baby shower? I’ve blocked it from memory for the most part but I do remember my MIL chasing me with the camera. I was already pissy because it was one of those modern-ish deals where the men come, too. So while I was stuck opening paraphernalia for breast pumps, Mark was out back drinking beer and hitting golf balls. Please keep in mind that he was delighted from the minute I told him of his impending fatherhood. I cried like a little girl when the stick turned blue and didn’t feel any better about the whole deal until the Pirate turned one.

    So anyway, I was bitter. I hadn’t had a drink in way too long, everybody was getting what they wanted (a BABY!) but me (Can I trade for a puppy instead?) and the MIL persisted in photographing my misery. I asked her to stop. I told her to stop. I told her if she didn’t I was going somewhere else. She kept right on going. When she tried to pose me with a couple of other folks I turned around and walked away.

    Mark told her later that I WAS. NOT. KIDDING. I did not want to see any of those photos, ever. If she framed one and set it out, it would vanish. I’ve never laid eyes on one.

    That’s the only thing pregnancy is good for. People will chalk up any awkward moment to the hormones.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: