Me: A New Definition

I was thinking about how people in the office have reacted when they’ve seen me (look from my belly, to my face, back to my belly), and how I’ve changed in how I view myself and how I function on a day-to-day basis (compulsive lotion-rubbing, frantic maternity-wear shopping, critical menu-reviewing), and I realized that I am now defined by Junior. Not only that, but after she’s born, I will be a Mommy Person. Not that this is a good or bad thing, but it’s like I’m suddenly gay or black or handicapped or Canadian. This child inside me makes people treat me differently. They tell different stories and jokes, and react strangely to how I do things that use to be considered very ‘normal’ (like, drink one, ONE, freaking Pepsi).

It always nagged at me a teensy bit that I would run to Quiet with bits of gay news that I thought he especially would find interesting. Or if people who didn’t know the guys would assume certain stereotypes (no, they are not tidy and blessed with excellent design sense). I hated that once you knew someone was gay, that was who they were – a Gay Person. I haven’t talked to any of my African-American pals about this, but I would guess that it’s probably similar, especially since it’s much more visible. And I’ve certainly had people impose their Canadian assumptions on me in the past, but not to this extent.

I just don’t like the idea that this is first and foremost who I am seen as now. I’m a lot of other things, too; single, and a woman, and a working professional. Not that I want to be defined by any one of those things, but can’t they all get along? I don’t want to be the person who only talks about her pregnancy, and then is consumed by her child. I want people to ask me about my day, and my job, and my fashionable bag rather than my protruding stomach or screaming toddler. Yes, Junior is extremely important and secretly all-consuming, but for the first time I’m getting a glimpse of what it means to lose myself. And I don’t think I’d like that very much.

So far the trip to Boston has been nothing but exhausting. I fell asleep on the plane like a total dork. I’m just excited I didn’t drool on the shoulder of my work blouse. Oh, and I left my laptop at security. Yeah, that was a first – luckily I realized my bag wasn’t as heavy as it should be. Last night I went to bed at 8:00, which would’ve been nice if I hadn’t slept in 1-2 hour shifts all night. My body sure is preparing me for the excitement to come. And I’m CRAZY sensitive to smells again – the hotel shampoo reeks of artificial cherry and the room smells overpoweringly of lotion, the rental car gags me with cheap air freshener, and I took one bite of a delicious-seeming Thanksgiving Sub (you can rightly assume just how great it looked, and it even came with gravy for dipping!), and the smell of the turkey forced me to drop it into the trash and instead eat a miniature box of Conversation Hearts. For dinner. Seriously. That’s what I ate, a handful of Valentine’s Day-themed candy. No fresh vegetables or grains or protein or, uh, real food. Just a little bit of sugar and 'House' and then lights out.

I tried to do better for breakfast this morning, as I had grocery shopped last night (I love the little kitchen in the room suite I have), and decided to try the new All-Bran Strawberry Medley. It was a medley of disgusting. I don’t understand how anything that can turn the milk such a pretty color can be so bland and nasty. Fortunately, in addition to being foul-tasting and visually unappealing, it also sat in my stomach like lead and made me bloaty, so that was nice. I also got to try the YoMommy yogurt, which I have been looking for everywhere (‘everywhere’ being ‘my local Kroger dairy case’). It wasn’t as bad as the cereal, but not as good as the Activia stuff I’ve been chugging. Plus I made the mistake of reading the label while I was eating it, and when yogurt includes anchovy oil, sardine oil, and tilapia fish gelatin, it’s a bit off-putting. But an excellent source of DHA, I guess. Grow, baby brain, grow!

THIS WEEK’S STATUS:
House: 2 showings – “Too much house”, interest level zero, depression plummeting as a result of lack of weekday showings
Junior: Hated the flight, hates it when I try to sleep, obviously already despises me
Mental state: Struggling to look like I’m doing real work in my depressing cubicle
Physical state: Tired, sore in weird places, unable to turn over in my sleep without painful tearing feeling, stomach now size of one small order of McDonald’s fries