The Scroll Down

13 01 2009

I’m a big fan of Go Fug Yourself. I love that they made George Clooney their slave intern. I love that they don’t let the famous and rich dress like idiots just because they are famous and rich and think that they can get away with it (when everyone knows the only thing they can get away with is naming their children horrid things, and nothing else). But I’m particularly fond of the surprise that comes with the Scroll Down, in which the fashion victim starts out appropriately dressed, but as you scroll down, you see the outfit goes all awry, usually by way of formal shorts. I love it. (The surprise, not formal shorts; they disgust me.)

Every once in a while, I fall victim to my own version of the Scroll Down. In my version, celebrities are not the feature; I am. And it is not my fashion on trial (although my fashion, or lack of, could certainly stand to be); it is my belly. You see, every once in a while (like every couple of days) I get it into my head that having another baby would be so lovely. This usually occurs after Oliver’s just had a bath and is smelling particularly scrumptious, and is sleepy and not at all his normal, rowdy self. Or it’ll happen after he’s marked some new milestone (we are walking now, hoo boy!), leaving his babyhood further behind, or he and Ethan have just shared the rare, gentle, brotherly moment. I’ll think to myself, Now. Now is the time. I want more of this!

I’ll get nostalgic. I’ll start craving baby. And soon enough, I’ll find myself sneaking peeks at my Belly Gallery up there. And as quickly as the sickness began, I will have my cure. Watch:

It starts out okay: I see this and I think, wow, am I touting that as a pregnant belly? Let’s be honest, I ate an extra sandwich at lunch, that’s all that thing is. But whatev. At this stage in my pregnancies, my hearty-lunch-belly has become a Pregnant Belly and I will flaunt it for the world, claiming it as such.

And then: DAMN. I looked goooood. Yes, I WILL model your 90% polyester, overly sparkley clothes for you, Motherhood Maternity.

Moving onto: Wow. I am the picture of a glowing mother. Healthy. Hott.

And now: Whoa, there. Slow down, now. That looks… uncomfortable. But still! This is what nature intended for me, and I think I’m doing my job pretty well.

Further: That’s a lot of belly. It can’t possibly get any bigger than that, can it?

Still further: Oh. I guess it can.

Keep scrolling down: Good Lord. How did I get up out of chairs?

And down: Oh, my. That poor woman must have had heartburn every waking minute… not that she could have slept if she’d wanted to, not with that thing in the way…

All the way down now: This isn’t safe. Surely it is going to snap like an over-inflated birthday balloon.

And BAM! I’m back to wishing someone I know would get pregnant again. Problem solved. Thank you, Scroll Down Bellies.



4 responses

14 01 2009

Holy crap, woman!!!!! What on earth was in there, a Buick? Wow! That is truly, truly impressive.

14 01 2009
Stephanie of Stopbouncing

Oliver’s walking?!?! *squeeeee*

I found the progression on your page a few weeks ago and cowered with fear. It’s especially amusing that your head is missing from the later photos.

17 01 2009

Hahaha! I have the same feeling when I begin considering having another baby- in those moments when I forget that babies can be pretty tough. Then I remember popping Ambien to stay asleep, sleeping with 50 pillows, getting up ten times a night to pee when I forgot the sleep aid, that awful swelling of my feet where I could hardly bend my toes, and barely being able to walk without arching my back unnaturally… and I come to the same conclusion as you. My sister, sisters-in-law, and ALL MY FRIENDS need to have babies, like NOW.

20 01 2009

Aahhhh yes but the JOY you feel when you see that beautiful little baby makes it all worth while. Besides if you didn’t have those pics(as I didn’t) you wouldn’t be looking at them wondering how you could do this again. It would be a distant memory! Love ya and sure would like a granddaughter!!

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