Monday, October 24, 2005
Waiting
The nursery is ready.
I’m ready.
I don’t know if Ian will ever be ready, but he’s got an SUV, that’s all we can ask of him.
So now we wait.
One thing I want to put in, before I forget: I’ve been trying to update, I really have. It’s not that I don’t have the time, I have nothing BUT time. Instead, I have lucidity in short supply. In other words: I can’t stand what I write, so I delete it rather than post it. I’ve always said I’d never do that, but I wasn’t pregnant when I said that, so it doesn’t count. I fully embrace the fact that I’m insane right now, and completely unaccountable for my actions, including any and all hypocrisy.
The last month of our lives has been pretty straight forward. Ian does everything, I do nothing. I’m at the point in my pregnancy where I have no energy, no drive, and am quite happy to let the world happen without me. Luckily, Ian’s adapted quite well to being responsible. Even luckier, he seems to have accomplished it without sacrificing his weight gain. He’s up to 580 pounds, and carrying it quite well.
My own weight is highly classified. Even writing this, I can see the absurdity of it. I’m not 460 pounds, which I’m happy about. My ‘official weight’ (that is, if anyone asks) is 330 pounds, but, I’m certainly more than that. Even though I’ve lived a life where I’ve never wanted to hide the number, for some reason, I want to hide the number. It’s more than I want, and simply acknowledging that is a personal failure.
Anyone who’s never been pregnant won’t understand why that makes sense to me.
Anyone who has been pregnant, well, hopefully you remember what it’s like to see a world where the sky is green and grass is purple. Hopefully I’ll remember. Or else this won’t even make sense to me.
It’s not that I even hate that I’m fat. I love it. I missed it so much, it’s like I’m on a holiday where I get to be big and fat one last time. I envy Ian his mass. I want to spend a day in his shoes to experience that beautiful body he’s achieved.
Until then, I satisfy myself knowing that I can do more, but am happy to realise that I’ve realised I don’t have to do more.
I’m happy.
I may well be happier than I’ve ever been in my entire life.
I’m ready to do this again.
I really am.
Until then… I wait.
I’m ready.
I don’t know if Ian will ever be ready, but he’s got an SUV, that’s all we can ask of him.
So now we wait.
One thing I want to put in, before I forget: I’ve been trying to update, I really have. It’s not that I don’t have the time, I have nothing BUT time. Instead, I have lucidity in short supply. In other words: I can’t stand what I write, so I delete it rather than post it. I’ve always said I’d never do that, but I wasn’t pregnant when I said that, so it doesn’t count. I fully embrace the fact that I’m insane right now, and completely unaccountable for my actions, including any and all hypocrisy.
The last month of our lives has been pretty straight forward. Ian does everything, I do nothing. I’m at the point in my pregnancy where I have no energy, no drive, and am quite happy to let the world happen without me. Luckily, Ian’s adapted quite well to being responsible. Even luckier, he seems to have accomplished it without sacrificing his weight gain. He’s up to 580 pounds, and carrying it quite well.
My own weight is highly classified. Even writing this, I can see the absurdity of it. I’m not 460 pounds, which I’m happy about. My ‘official weight’ (that is, if anyone asks) is 330 pounds, but, I’m certainly more than that. Even though I’ve lived a life where I’ve never wanted to hide the number, for some reason, I want to hide the number. It’s more than I want, and simply acknowledging that is a personal failure.
Anyone who’s never been pregnant won’t understand why that makes sense to me.
Anyone who has been pregnant, well, hopefully you remember what it’s like to see a world where the sky is green and grass is purple. Hopefully I’ll remember. Or else this won’t even make sense to me.
It’s not that I even hate that I’m fat. I love it. I missed it so much, it’s like I’m on a holiday where I get to be big and fat one last time. I envy Ian his mass. I want to spend a day in his shoes to experience that beautiful body he’s achieved.
Until then, I satisfy myself knowing that I can do more, but am happy to realise that I’ve realised I don’t have to do more.
I’m happy.
I may well be happier than I’ve ever been in my entire life.
I’m ready to do this again.
I really am.
Until then… I wait.
// posted by Charlotte @ 4:18:00 PM 
