One of my favorite side effects of the increased pregnancy hormones has got to be the amped up production of grease by my face. Sink an oil well, here, fellas, and we'll make millions!
Just because I didn't suffer teenage acne doesn't mean I don't know how to take care of the situation:
I shower every night.
I wash my face with facial cleanser to help dry out some of the oil producers.
After my shower, I find that applying a bit of astringent helps to keep the flood of goo at bay just a little while longer.
Fast forward to the morning when I crankily wake up with the alarm. . .
Surprise, surprise! My face is laden with all kinds of grossity.
For heaven's sake. I wash and apply astringent. Again.
By 10am, I am oily.
Again.
This time, I'm just going to have to deal with it until I get home from work.
I find that I am washing and applying astringent three times a day.
I'm sure that is more than indicated.
Even my faithful aesthetician, Bonnie has noticed. During my last facial, she spent a copious amount of time digging out my severely clogged pores. Yes. I have pimples. Because I'm 14.
Several women have already told me that this will pass. But, I'm not prepared for another 6 months of puss and oil filled behemoths popping up to say "hello!"
For now, the best I can do it continue washing my face like it's prom season and visiting Bonnie on a monthly basis.
Thursday, July 5, 2012
Monday, July 2, 2012
SWEET MOSES! I AM PROLIFIC TODAY!
On a side note, when I arrived at the mall, I quickly found a spot and as I began to steer into it, I noticed the sign. . .
Apparently, in my own mind, I am not pregnant enough to necessitate special parking. So, I backed-up and pulled into the spot next to it.
Perhaps it was the thought of walking out to my car after shopping only to be confronted by someone who didn't believe my status. Or, maybe I'm still a little in denial.
Right.
Perhaps it was the thought of walking out to my car after shopping only to be confronted by someone who didn't believe my status. Or, maybe I'm still a little in denial.
Right.
SWEET SUCCESS
I have never been a good shopper. I save up my shopping tolerance for Black Friday - when I take my eldest niece shopping all day for holiday goodies. Sporadic shopping during the non-holidays is never good and I usually come away with plenty of stuff for other people.
Today, I managed to actually buy things. For myself. This is a massive upgrade from the last four trips out with the Hub. On those sad days, I drove 30 minutes to a local mall. I then spent 20 minutes walking in circles before I was fucking finished and drove the next 30 minutes home - empty handed. Four times, people. My Hub is a saint.
So, I need to thank the following folks for their unlimited help today. . .
- The girls at Claire's who helped me pick out two of the most perfect fake wedding rings. It's hard when your already chubby fingers turn into little Korean sausages and your normal band no longer fits.
- The sweet ladies at Loft who knew that I really meant light knit summer dresses when I said stretchy fat girl wear. I bought two really cute knee length dresses that are work appropriate with a shrug (that I also bought) and transition easily into evening wear. I will also admit that one of the dresses has pockets. Because I am four. And I need somewhere to keep my gum.
- The knowledgeable gals (I'm running out of euphamisms for chicks) at Destination Maternity for helping me find appropriate work and casual attire that will last me through the next 6 months. Nothing perturbs me more than buying clothes that will only do me good for 6 months. Except maybe the fact that I can no longer suck in the chub. Seriously. Ew. I am now the proud owner of two skirts with goofy panels sewn into them. I also procurred several new tops to go with said skirts and to go with . . . the period shorts that temporarily still fit.
- The kind woman at Bath and Body Works who tried to help me when the smell became overwhelming and I thought I might hork picking through the antibacterial hand soaps.
- And. . . to my Sister In Law who suffered through it all with me. You managed to make a tomboy look all cutesy. Impressive, Madame.
Thank you!
Today, I managed to actually buy things. For myself. This is a massive upgrade from the last four trips out with the Hub. On those sad days, I drove 30 minutes to a local mall. I then spent 20 minutes walking in circles before I was fucking finished and drove the next 30 minutes home - empty handed. Four times, people. My Hub is a saint.
So, I need to thank the following folks for their unlimited help today. . .
- The girls at Claire's who helped me pick out two of the most perfect fake wedding rings. It's hard when your already chubby fingers turn into little Korean sausages and your normal band no longer fits.
- The sweet ladies at Loft who knew that I really meant light knit summer dresses when I said stretchy fat girl wear. I bought two really cute knee length dresses that are work appropriate with a shrug (that I also bought) and transition easily into evening wear. I will also admit that one of the dresses has pockets. Because I am four. And I need somewhere to keep my gum.
- The knowledgeable gals (I'm running out of euphamisms for chicks) at Destination Maternity for helping me find appropriate work and casual attire that will last me through the next 6 months. Nothing perturbs me more than buying clothes that will only do me good for 6 months. Except maybe the fact that I can no longer suck in the chub. Seriously. Ew. I am now the proud owner of two skirts with goofy panels sewn into them. I also procurred several new tops to go with said skirts and to go with . . . the period shorts that temporarily still fit.
- The kind woman at Bath and Body Works who tried to help me when the smell became overwhelming and I thought I might hork picking through the antibacterial hand soaps.
- And. . . to my Sister In Law who suffered through it all with me. You managed to make a tomboy look all cutesy. Impressive, Madame.
Thank you!
PIT STOP REVIEW!
RESTROOM LOCATION: Kohl's Department Store on Manchester
# of VISITS: 1
RESTROOM STYLE: Several stalls. Standard partial wall and door.
DECOR: Standard. Nothing special.
REVIEW: It was clean. I was happy for an open stall. Then I saw that I wasn't alone. He was big. I had to convince my 5 year old niece not to kill him. She likes killing. (I think she takes after me.) We washed our hands and headed back out to leave him in peace. We are good people.
NEW GOALS
At just 12 weeks, I am finding that all but a few of my clothing selection are so uncomfortable that I seriously considered wearing a nightshirt (with just a little bit of strawberry jelly and peanutbutter on it!) and a pair of sandals out to a birthday dinner the other night. Those things that still fit me were XL and items that fell into that funny little category of: Period Clothes.
So, after work today, my loving Sister in Law and I are heading out to the mall to see if I can hunt down, trap and buy the ever elusive pregnancy comfortable clothing.
In my mind, I see flowy summer dresses that can easily switch to work appropriate with a shrug or sweater.
I will update my success or lack thereof when I get home.
So, after work today, my loving Sister in Law and I are heading out to the mall to see if I can hunt down, trap and buy the ever elusive pregnancy comfortable clothing.
In my mind, I see flowy summer dresses that can easily switch to work appropriate with a shrug or sweater.
I will update my success or lack thereof when I get home.
Monday, June 25, 2012
NOT QUITE RIGHT.
Little kids go through it. They are big enough to use the big kid potty. But, they still aren't big enough ride a tricycle to the park by themselves.
That's where I am. At 11 weeks, I am fluffy enough to feel a bit snug in my own pants. But, I'm not big enough to necessitate maternity clothes.
How can you tell that your pants are a little too tight? Other than the obvious pinchy feeling, here are a few clues:
1. Your pockets have more flare than usual. This goes for the men, too. If you are getting a little thick 'round the middle, your pockets strain to supply a little more material. Then, your hips seem to be trying to take flight with their newly found pocket wings.
2. Certain parts of your pants start to rise to the occasion. I was disturbed, too. Trust me. I am a firm believer that no one should sport "toes" above the knees. Seriously.
So, where does this leave me?
Oh, THIS. Definitely THIS.
As long as you can get past feeling that you didn't buckle your pants (which you didn't!) you can use this band with success.
So far, I have used the band primarily with work pants. They are the most unforgiving - other than jeans. As long as I wear it with a slightly longer shirt, noone even knows it's there. And, as long as I tuck that pesky little button behind some material, I forget it's there.
REVIEW: Fluffy? Use a Band. Maintain pre-pregnancy clothing use for longer. Deny the ever-growing waistline for another day.
That's where I am. At 11 weeks, I am fluffy enough to feel a bit snug in my own pants. But, I'm not big enough to necessitate maternity clothes.
How can you tell that your pants are a little too tight? Other than the obvious pinchy feeling, here are a few clues:
1. Your pockets have more flare than usual. This goes for the men, too. If you are getting a little thick 'round the middle, your pockets strain to supply a little more material. Then, your hips seem to be trying to take flight with their newly found pocket wings.
2. Certain parts of your pants start to rise to the occasion. I was disturbed, too. Trust me. I am a firm believer that no one should sport "toes" above the knees. Seriously.
So, where does this leave me?
Oh, THIS. Definitely THIS.
As long as you can get past feeling that you didn't buckle your pants (which you didn't!) you can use this band with success.
So far, I have used the band primarily with work pants. They are the most unforgiving - other than jeans. As long as I wear it with a slightly longer shirt, noone even knows it's there. And, as long as I tuck that pesky little button behind some material, I forget it's there.
REVIEW: Fluffy? Use a Band. Maintain pre-pregnancy clothing use for longer. Deny the ever-growing waistline for another day.
TIPS FOR YOUR PUBLIC
No. This is still not the post about the Chernobyl level of angry that is currently rushing through my veins. Patience. It's coming.
Latley, I have been torturing myself by reading pregnancy bulletin boards. Primarily, I just want to see what everyone else is going through. What I have found are hundreds of pregnant women who are surrounding themselves with people who don't support them and their pregnancies with their words. Quite the contrary! Most of these women seem to be surrounded by negative and caustic assholes.
Assuming that these women are not just big balls of raging hormones. . . I have written this post as a cheatsheet to help those people in your life acclimate to your pregnancy. Because everything in this world revolves around them.
1. It is none of your business. Why, when, how, if. . . none of it. You get the information that the future parents decide to give you. You are not entitled to every bit of information available. When our forefathers mentioned "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness," they were not giving you auto-entitlement. Read #3 for more on that.
2. It is none of your business. If you have been trusted with details regarding someone's pregnancy, you can rest assured it is for two reasons. Either you are an important part of the couple's life or you are a perceived threat to their peace of mind. If you are the former, make sure to keep confidences and keep your mouth shut. If the couple wants everyone to know about their pregnancy, they will tell them. If you are the latter, this post is not for you. You are a lost cause. Die in a fire. (More with the burning?!$@)(*&#@)()
3. It is none of your business. To elaborate on #1. . So, the girl who sits across the aisle from you at work is clearly pregnant. Guess what. She never has to confirm that for you. You can bet that if she hasn't already said something to you, you don't rank high enough in her life to warrant tidings of the good news. If you are at all intelligent, you should be able to surmise that if you weren't privvy to her pending baby, you certainly are not entitled to know if she will have the epidural, if she intends to breastfeed, if she will cosleep, how long it took her to get pregnant, if she has had miscarriages in the past. Nothing. YOU. GET. NOTHING.
4. It is none of your business.
5. It is none of your business.
. . . Need I say more?
P.S. Eventually, I'll give you a list of snarky responses to help whip these offenders back to their own lives. For now, stand-up and let them know that you are displeased. We cannot correct behavior by assuming that the offenders know their offenses.
Latley, I have been torturing myself by reading pregnancy bulletin boards. Primarily, I just want to see what everyone else is going through. What I have found are hundreds of pregnant women who are surrounding themselves with people who don't support them and their pregnancies with their words. Quite the contrary! Most of these women seem to be surrounded by negative and caustic assholes.
Assuming that these women are not just big balls of raging hormones. . . I have written this post as a cheatsheet to help those people in your life acclimate to your pregnancy. Because everything in this world revolves around them.
1. It is none of your business. Why, when, how, if. . . none of it. You get the information that the future parents decide to give you. You are not entitled to every bit of information available. When our forefathers mentioned "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness," they were not giving you auto-entitlement. Read #3 for more on that.
2. It is none of your business. If you have been trusted with details regarding someone's pregnancy, you can rest assured it is for two reasons. Either you are an important part of the couple's life or you are a perceived threat to their peace of mind. If you are the former, make sure to keep confidences and keep your mouth shut. If the couple wants everyone to know about their pregnancy, they will tell them. If you are the latter, this post is not for you. You are a lost cause. Die in a fire. (More with the burning?!$@)(*&#@)()
3. It is none of your business. To elaborate on #1. . So, the girl who sits across the aisle from you at work is clearly pregnant. Guess what. She never has to confirm that for you. You can bet that if she hasn't already said something to you, you don't rank high enough in her life to warrant tidings of the good news. If you are at all intelligent, you should be able to surmise that if you weren't privvy to her pending baby, you certainly are not entitled to know if she will have the epidural, if she intends to breastfeed, if she will cosleep, how long it took her to get pregnant, if she has had miscarriages in the past. Nothing. YOU. GET. NOTHING.
4. It is none of your business.
5. It is none of your business.
. . . Need I say more?
P.S. Eventually, I'll give you a list of snarky responses to help whip these offenders back to their own lives. For now, stand-up and let them know that you are displeased. We cannot correct behavior by assuming that the offenders know their offenses.
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