Saturday, July 13, 2013

Crying Over Split Milk...and Everything in Between.

Watch out, there's a blubber about!
Lord knows there's been reasons for tears this pregnancy. It's been stressful and high risk, and therefore traumatic on far too frequent occasions. However I think it's safe to say that not all of my tears have necessarily been rational. 

One thing I realised early in is that pregnant women cry like fountains. Well this pregnant women does anyway. Show me a picture of a kitten on a plate and I could easily break down.

Top (ridiculous) things I have cried about so far this pregnancy:
My GHDs smashed
The husband was well and truly to blame for this one, in his rambunctious striding across the bedroom he tripped on the cord, as I was using them. As I saw them ricochet out of my hand and onto the tiled bedroom floor, I knew it wasn't going to end well. Ceramic plates and tiles are not the best bed fellows. And as I picked the shattered pieces up, I cried like a baby. I was half way through getting ready for afternoon tea at Atmosphere in the Armani Hotel, it was 40 degrees outside, I looked like an Afghan hound at the groomers : the 'before' shot.

Ghds are extremely hard to find in Dubai, and when you do, they cost around 200 quid. In my defence I probably would have wept over this when not pregnant.

Molly the cat stayed out (almost) all night

We tend to keep MTC in at night. She's black, cars drive fast, the roads aren't that well lit. And well, I just feel better knowing her hairy wide ass is snoring and safe within the walls of Casa Satwa. To be fair, she rarely shows any interest in going out, at all, during the summer months so it's not usually an issue.

One night she did venture out, and there was no sign of her at midnight. I had visions of her poor broken body at the side of the road (morbid thoughts also more frequent when up the duff I found). My mind imagined her dying a long painful death, ALONE.

This just broken my heart into a million pieces. Hot fat tears ran down my face as I explained this to the husband. And I cared not one jot that I was sat in a crowded bar as this happened.

Obviously when we got home she was nonchalantly on the front step like nothing had happened. I gathered her up and whispered sweet nothings into her hairy ears. The husband eye rolled.

Raw bacon
Only a pregnant woman can understand the ravaging hunger that can come over you. This, coupled with morning sickness, can make you like a heat seeking missile where food is concerned. 

So you can imagine my horror when sick as a dog, starving, yet realised I was physically repulsed by the (normally) delicious pack of bacon in the fridge. I literally couldn't touch it without dry heaving. When then turned into huge heaving sobs. Not my finest hour.

Sad movies
Pregnant women: do yourselves a favour: do not watch The Quartet (nursing home with old folks and Billy Connolly) or Song for Marion (woman dying of terminal cancer). Well you can, but you will be bereft for DAYS. I sobbed into a towel in the bathroom for at least three consecutive nights.

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