Stepford Mums....

I used to have brains, I used to be smart and talented at different arty type things, I used to enjoy gaming and having long conversations over coffee or beer about the state of the world. All nighters were pulled just creating characters for table top games, or reading a good book. I used to have friends, I used to be independent and sexy, experimental and lithe.

Now your lucky if you can get me to say up past 10pm.... tea has to be decaffeinated, I watch everything I put in my mouth and most of my thoughts are taken up with the nights meal, or budgeting and planning for our growing bump.

That is of course if I can even remember the way to the bloody shops...AS today dear reader I wish to talk about.. BABY BRAIN that undetermined spark in your brain that helps you to recall your first boyfriends name, your old car's licence plate or even your shopping list.. totally gone.. lucky now if you can remember to buy milk that day.

It's mental! and FRUSTRATING AS HELL!

I feel like someone has slipped me a roofie, my mind feels fuzzy and all over the place, easily distracted by shiny things (OK nothing new there) and just not up to the same smart and slick standards I am used too. I arrive at the local food shop and stand staring at the aisles trying to recall why I am there.

Is this preparation for sleepless nights? Is this why women suddenly become mindless zombies that can speak of nothing but their children's poohing habits after giving birth? Is it simply further proof that god truly is a man as he is creating mindless zombies to procreate the world and live in happy communal suburbs where we all yell at the local children and call the police on the neighbour who allows his dog to pooh on our lawn?

I find myself having conversations with dear friends, people I used to get blasted with and party hard, people who used to stay up all night discussing the debate on abortion, or the state of the local government (OK we were mostly arguing bout which character could take down Brett Hart)  that are now about which suburb has the best schooling with public transport nearby?!

It's a conspiracy... I can feel it... its the government feeding us, these scans we get when we have our children inject some kind of NHS/Medicare funded rayon dye that feeds our depleting brain cells and makes us think we are unable to raise children outside of a 4 bedroom home with a Volvo and a good yard.. I know it is, we are all being turned into the politicians views of perfect wives and mothers...

Stepford Wives 1975 

I refuse to be taken down!!!! I WILL FIGHT I will turn away from the corn patterned blinds and read our toddler Shakespeare and Neil Gaiman comics, trade the Volvo in for that Chevy Impaler, dress our little boy in pink and your little girl in blue! I REFUSE to be sucked in by this mechanising attitude of mothering that is pumped at me from every corner of the internet. NO ONE WILL DICTATE TO ME.......NO ONE.... nope... not... a .... ooh.... cute.....batman... baby shoes...... oh darling..... oh oh oh.......want.... oh... gush...

I am a goner... may as well just accept it and buy an apron....

http://www.bethanysewandsew.com/p/superheroes.html

PREGNANT HULK SMASH!

I pride myself on having a strong side, a side that lurches out and explodes through to battle for those who are being treated unjustly! It's a side I like and my husband likes, he often refers to it as MADDIE HULK SMASH and we have a laugh...

Now having said that and hopefully given you the vague idea that I am at most a fairly rational person, who has a good filter, know's when to keep her mouth shut and when to be humble and also knows when to stand up for her own rights, a good balance that can be sometimes altered with a hit of depression but overall fairly well put together.

Having pre-empted my blog with the previous, I am going to speak today about.. pregnancy hormones... Yes, those niggly sparks in the brain that, if you pay attention to ROM COM's, are simply you weeping a little bit more, or being a little bit more sensitive about your weight, but still overall a good happy girl who is bright and cheery while she carries her blessed child.

HAH well I have a story to tell that shows you that these hormones are a hella lot worse than you think!

Once again dear ladies we have been mislead, see the pregnancy hormones do at times turn you into that weeping mess of a woman who cries because she has run out of milk or misses her family, but they also provide you with a lovely healthy bout of angry at husband all the time, scream and yell at innocent sales assistants, rant and rave at stupid phone sales people, screaming at neighbours who won't put the bins back.... and best of all a strong desire to smack your husband in the face... which.. I did!

He is amazing, I will tell you that now, I have never in my life and this includes my father and all men in my family, met a man who is so patient and so able to put up with anything I throw at him. Maybe its love, maybe its the way he was raised, maybe its both! but he is amazing and I adore him with all my heart and soul...

It was all very innocent, we were play fighting in the kitchen and waiting for tea to cook, when he made a remark (wish I could recall what it was) but it pissed me off so much and upset me so much that I reached right up and...I slapped him!!!. Did not mean too hurt him, did not intentionally hit him, it was just a reflex... luckily I did not HURT him in any great way, but man was he shocked, almost as much as I was, but then I burst out laughing seconds after I did it... hormones..

Luckily for me he understands and forgives me, but I am still copping constant joking comments about how he is an abused spouse blah blah, he talks lots actually really gets on my fucking nerves.... maybe I should just hit him again....

HULK SMASH!
photo courtesy of  http://wagnerf.deviantart.com/

"I'm sorry Madam, you're far to fat to have a baby, please leave our store!"

Sometimes I wish designers would just come right out and say it.

There would be a Pretty Woman moment as I slink out the shop with my fat boobs sagging and my jowls wobbling as I mumble "oh but I have money....." least then I would know where I stood and not be attracted to the bright shiny shop and the happy smiles of the assistants in those big bright corners of glamorous racks style... drawn to them like a moth.. a sad demented.. deluded moth...

It starts the same way as entering any shop when your a big girl. You pretend not to notice the staff as they glance away unsure how to deal with that weird bulge at the front of your jeans, whispers cross the room as they raise their red tinged nails to their plump freshly lipsticked gaunt cheeks and mock your weight and style.


Yet you ignore them, stick out your big titties and stride, ever so jubilantly up to the glowing racks of funky, hip mum to be clothing for the young pregnant woman who wants to remain hot for her man. Cause deep down you know your a MILF. You begin flipping...sliding the coat hangers one by one down the pristine rail as top after top of glorious colours and patterns dance in front of you, humming the Hippo Dance theme from Fantasia. 


Your face lighting up and fading as each size tag reflects that of  an 8 year old child if it has been starved for a year. Slowly your ego begins to deflate, you clutch your slowly growing belly as you realise that this shop has nothing for you..... everything goes up to a size 14 nothing higher.. even then its an Asian child's bound waist 14 not a proper Aussie chick fed up on meat and three veg kind of 14.


That's when it begins to dawn on you... it almost whispers through the gilded mirrors like your own personal Snow White moment. whispering the truth "You're not the fairest of them all.. but fattest oh yes" gulping down that burgeoning hormonal surge of shame and sadness, you feel tears pricking the edge of your eyes as you quickly grab your husband and dash out of the store mumbling a reply as he asks loudly "Nothing you like hon?" 

I learnt a long time ago that a big girl in this world will always have trouble looking the way she would like, be it fashion trends or alternative ones, its always hard to find anything over a 14. Sadly I deluded myself into believing that Maternity would be one area that we would be slightly more accepted... wasn't I ridiculously stupid!

Even stores like Evans, that cater for us overweight girls do not have a maternity section, is it so Taboo.. so shameful to think that big girls get married and have sex? that we would dare choose to... (whisper) procreate?

If I ever won lotto, I would create a chain of stores catering to big girls of all walks of life and include, maternity and bridal wear in the line.. at a cost that everyone can afford.

A little bit of how fab us big girls can be!
 Courtesy of Daily Mail article