I’ve been trying to gather myself together for tomorrow and it’s not really going that well. You’d think I’d be used to it after four kids, but I’m always surprised at the way pregnancy distorts my body so horrifically. So I’m taking refuge in blogging so that maybe one of you will commiserate and let me know that it’s not that abnormal.
Since Grub was born (in June) I have to admit that my personal grooming time has taken a hit. I mean, it’s just not that easy to find the time to remove hair from your lady bits when your holding a baby 20 hours of the day. It’s just not.
There have been times since her birth when I’ve managed one armpit or one leg and then had to attend to whatever she needed from me. One hairy pit/leg does not make you feel glamorous. Maintenance of the more sensitive areas has not been attempted as I’m too worried I’ll end up with it half done. THAT would not be pretty.
The fact that my body is being sucked dry of all it’s vital nutrients is not doing wonders for my hair and nails. My nails keep chipping. Large chunks coming out. I keep ending up with two or three nails looking like I’ve chewed them down as far as they’ll go and a couple of long chipped ones. Again, not that pretty really.
Normally it doesn’t bother me but when I have to attend some sort of event, such as my Pa’s funeral tomorrow, it kinda gets me down. I don’t want to show up in front of all of my extended family and family friends, not to mention hundreds of other people (Pa was well loved by his community), looking like a swamp creature.
It’s bad enough that I’m still wearing all of my pregnancy-related fat deposits, making me look like a frump in even my most favored attire, but add to that the slightly odd, off-kilter haircut that my hairdresser saddled me with when I was eight months pregnant and is still not long enough to have re-cut into something more appealing and it’s just not pretty.
So, spare a thought for me tomorrow as I try to cram my hairy legs into my most generously cut and forgiving trousers, find a blouse that does not have a stain (and will not mean having to practically take it off in order to feed grub) and smear something on my face in an attempt to hide the bags under my eyes. It will not be pretty.