The Girl Who Learned To Kneel

My grandma told me the first word I learned was “more.” Gives me pause.

Is it wrong to ask women to stop telling me their birthing horror stories?

Gentle Simon told his colleague to ‘Fuck off.’ It’s comforting to know he also has an evil twin.

When our air conditioner starts blowing, Simon and I yell: “Lift off!”

I have heard the requests for a ‘belly shot.’ Voila!

Things that irk, installment numero dos:

Spam text messages.

Heartburn, still.

Being hot.

The smell of too much perfume or too much cologne. I realize that ‘too much’ is entirely subjective, but nonetheless, I share–

Facebook applications.

Preggo horror stories.

The smirk that comes over people’s faces when I say I’m going to birth my baby naturally with my mind in a happy place!

Grease stains.

Tide pens that don’t remove grease stains. What?

Customs. Immigration. So much drama.

Running to catch a plane.

Cold coffee.

Ants on my toes.