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Archive for the ‘pregnancy’ Category

Serves me Right

posted by BatSheva Vaknin 9:07 AM
Monday, January 14, 2013

It all felt very right, very – “communicative.” In the car last week, when my 6 year old daughter asked me a really thoughtful question, “Are all girls born with a teeny tiny baby in their tummy?” I was excited at the prospect of helping her to understand – just a little – about the biological beginnings of a baby.

She already understood that only women get pregnant, and so by extension, it made sense that she would imagine all girls would hold the teeniest, microscopic baby in their tummies until they were finally old enough and ready enough to be Mommies and really ‘grow the babies.’

I told her she was very close in her guess – that when girls go through the process called ‘puberty’ – when a girl’s body goes through many changes and becomes a woman’s body – one of those changes is that she gets ‘eggs’ in a special part of her body called the ‘womb,’ – eggs that are basically “half a baby” only super teeny tiny. (No, I didn’t elaborate, nor did I explain anything about the ‘1 egg per month/period’ thing. Let’s let the child live in a blood-free fantasy world just a bit longer, shan’t we?)

At the same time, I added, boys’ bodies go through puberty and when THEIR bodies change from boys to men, they get these things called ‘sperm’ which also have all the ingredients for half a baby. In this way, when the Mommy and Daddy are finally ready to ‘make a baby,’ the baby is made from the ½ baby in the dad and the ½ baby in the mom, and becomes a ‘whole baby seed’ that grows inside the mom.

The few questions that followed were lively and logical, and didn’t lead us down any paths I couldn’t answer for her 6 year old capacity to understand. (She didn’t wonder too deeply when I contradicted her claim that “that’s why babies can ONLY come when a Mom and Dad get MARRIED” – I did tell her it can happen other ways but that, bottom line, there has to be the ½ from the boy & the ½ from the girl to get the whole things started.

I was faintly glowing all evening from having such a successful ‘mother-daughter’ talk – and then forgot mostly about it until the next evening, when Rachel announced knowingly to her older brother: “Did you know you are pregnant with half a baby? It’s true! Ima told me!”

Sigh…

I think I should have just changed the subject back when I had the chance.

c/xo,

 

Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)

And the moral of the story is: Never try to have "that talk" with your child. Ever.

Forty is the New Thirty!*

posted by BatSheva Vaknin 10:20 AM
Wednesday, December 19, 2012

*…except when you’re pregnant!

Hey folks! I’ve got a neat new game, and I’d like to invite all of you to play! It’s called, “Except When You’re Pregnant!” See if you can follow along.

You know that silly game you played once in college that was totally & completely hilarious (especially after downing 3 sakis, 2 large Sapporos, and possibly having smoked weed before even entering the restaurant)… that “between the sheets” game? If memory serves (which it rarely does), the phrase was most popular paired with a Chinese fortune:

“You will have great luck”

… Between the sheets!”

“You find beauty in ordinary things, do not lose this ability.”

… Between the sheets!”

“Plan for many pleasures ahead.”

Between the sheets!”

“Make two grins grow where there was only a grouch before.”

… Between the sheets!”

“Something you lost will soon turn up.”

… Between the sheets!”

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Well, I’ve got a NEW game, a GROWNUP GIRL game, and it goes like this:

I’ll say a statement of fact, and then you yell, “except when you’re pregnant!”

K?

Here goes:

Going out to the movies and a late dinner is SO MUCH FUN! (your turn: “Except when you’re pregnant!”)

Cleaning the house isn’t too hard! (“Except when you’re pregnant!”)

Staying away from ice cream and chocolate is hard, but I do it because I care about my weight. (“Except when you’re pregnant!”)

No one eats pizza every week, chocolate chip cookies and/or ice cream every single day, and full meals of a block of cheese with ten rice crackers every day too!! (“Except when you’re pregnant!”)

It’s so easy not to get emotional about the silly stuff. (“Except when you’re pregnant!”)

BWAHAHAHAHAHA!

Well, that’s it for now, folks. Thanks for joining in, you did great!

c/xo,

 

Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)

P.S. Bonus points for coming up with your own phrases for the game and writing them in the Comments Section!

Getting a good night's sleep is easy! (EXCEPT WHEN YOU'RE PREGNANT... or married to someone who is pregnant!!!)

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The Circle of Life (and by life, I mean, um, clothes)

posted by BatSheva Vaknin 9:55 AM
Monday, December 17, 2012

You remember that blog I wrote last week lamenting the dismal state of affairs as it pertains to maternity wear? (No, no one ever accused me of lacking hyperbole.)

Well, turns out, there is a silver lining: hand-me-downs!

During my 1st pregnancy, I was oblivious to this gift that keeps giving, and so that was the pregnancy where I laid out the most cash – easily a couple thousand dollars for 9 months worth of – with a few notable exceptions thanks to a fire sale at NOM, cool maternity store that I think no longer exists – badly made, butt-ugly maternity clothes.

But that was then (9+ years ago, to be exact), and the next pregnancy, dear readers, was 2 years later! Meaning, I was 2 years wiser, 2 years less vain, and 2 years more broke.

Which is how I re-discovered the power of coveting another woman’s clothes that she’s outgrown/grown tired of.

I say “re” discovered, because this was an old move of mine wayyyy back in the day, growing up under the shadow of my 4-yrs older sister, whose clothes in general didn’t excite me much but whose BETSY JOHNSON RIBBON SKIRT was – in my 12 year old eyes – the Be All End All of all things hip, cool and cute. I had to have it. I wanted it! I asked to borrow it at every turn. And my loving, caring, sharing’s sister’s answer, no matter what?

Hell-to the NO.

I pined over that skirt. I dreamt about that skirt. I swear I probably cried once or twice over not being able to borrow that skirt.

And then.

The happiest Christmas ever.

(Um, other than the one when I was 10 and got the drum set AND the real wedding dress to play dress up in. And – um – other than the one where I got a new car. Okay, this is beginning to look bad.)

My point is, there was a Christmas that I was maybe hoping to get X from Mom, or maybe to get Y from Dad, when – lo and behold, I opened a smushily-wrapped gift from my sister, and found…

The Betsy Johnson skirt. THE RIBBON SKIRT!!

Sniff! Still brings a tear to my eyes.

I loved that skirt like a mother loves her child.

Which reminds me… this blog was supposed to be about hand-me-down maternity clothes!

So, yes, by my second and third preganacy, I not only wised up and started asking all my way-better-dressed-than-me ex-pregnant friends if I could give their maternity clothes a happy home (which worked out fabulously), but I even got ballsy enough last year when I was NOT pregnant, to ask my pregnant friend if I could borrow her beautiful Max Studio dress while her belly was too big to wear it, and I scored that for a good 9 months too.

Shameless.

This time around the pregnancy block, I bought a few new things, and re-adopted some of the hand-me-down maternity clothes I had borrowed for previous pregnancies, which I had returned and had been held onto. The icing on that cyclical cake was the other week, when a friend I hadn’t bothered to ask for hand-me-downs (she is half my height and still very pregnant) stopped me in the street during school drop-off.

“BatSheva! I have a bag of clothes for you!”

Turns out, she had gotten hand-me-downs from someone else, and many of the clothes were way too big for her, so she thought I could use them.

What I found inside?

About 4 fabulous pairs of pants and 3 dresses – THE VERY SAME CLOTHES I HAD BOUGHT MYSELF FOR MY FIRST PREGANCY 9 YEARS AGO, BEFORE PAYING THEM FORWARD.

They came back home! Back to their mommy! Just in time – sniff!

The circle of life – and by life, I mean clothes, duh – is beautiful, isn’t it?

c/xo,

 

Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)

My intention was to draw my fantasy maternity outfit - a cool, punk-ish outfit (ie, fishnets) topped off with a maternity version of the Ribbon Skirt. Unfortunately, I forgot that I don't know how to draw. Sigh....

Clothes that Suck

posted by BatSheva Vaknin 8:59 AM
Wednesday, December 12, 2012

So by now we all know I’m pregnant. Which means… ladies, altogether now:

SUCKY MATERNITY CLOTHES!

Why do maternity clothes suck? Let me count the ways. (and btw, I apologize for the lack of SPACE between each listed item, below. HOW DO YOU F$*#(&%#$-ING USE WORDPRESS TO CREATE A PROPER LIST WITH NORMAL SPACING???!!!!?? ARGHHH!!)

Ahem.

  1. 1. Cap sleeves. Didn’t like them when I was four, don’t like them now. What do the designers think happens to a woman when she gets pregnant – that her fashion sense and style automatically reverts to Laura Ingalls circa-1820?
  2. 2. The belt below the bra. I mean, come ON! Really? Really?? Just because my belly is growing larger, doesn’t mean you now need to amplify it’s existence by strapping a ribbon or a belt below my boobs to help the belly-part of the shirt poof out even that much more. Don’t you have ANY imagination? [PS - and what is up with women wearing those types of shirts when they are NOT pregnant??? Ladies, don't you realize that shirt is making you LOOK 5 months preggers? Don't get lazy, find another style to suit your beautiful if not stick-skinny body! Don't give in to the bra-belt hype!]
  3. 3. Shitty construction. And by that I mean: my 6 year old could have slapped a few pieces of material & sewn them together in a more lasting and secure way than these people do! Why does the fact that you only wear these clothes for a few months mean the seams need to start coming apart and the whole thing starts to lose shape after 3 weeks?
  4. 4. If it doesn’t have shitty construction… it cost about a million dollars. Seriously. A million. This prowling, selfish industry is out to bankrupt us, my pregnant sisters! Because if you want to wear something half-way decent WITHOUT cap sleeves and WITHOUT a belt below your bra and WITHOUT the thing falling apart in 2 days… you have to empty your bank account to afford it. What is up with that???

After 3 kids & now into my 4th pregnancy, I realize the only way to go is to buy clothes in bigger sizes that are cute and fashionable and cut in a way that allows for tons of room in the belly arena. Too bad that is also expensive, time-consuming, and altogether nearly-impossible for a shopping-impaired person like myself.

Don’t get me wrong – I love to shop – but I simply don’t have the 3-4 hours it takes PER STORE to look, try on, and find those affordable gems that will look great, fit perfectly, and last forever.

Sigh…. gotta go throw on my old, non-maternity baby doll dress as a shirt with my over-priced maternity pants.

c/xo,

 

Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)

FYI, you can click on the image if you want to read all my really pithy explanations of why maternity clothes suck so much without having to squint (for my over-40 and reading-impaired readers).

 

Drumroll, Please!

posted by BatSheva Vaknin 9:04 AM
Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Okay, readers! As promised, here is my “official first blog back.” (yesterday’s was kind of a warm-up)

Let’s see… how do I say this delicately?

I think there’s no way but the straightforward way.

Here goes.

I’m pregnant.

Yes, again.

That’s right, you calculated correctly. Number four.

No, I wasn’t lying when I wrote about turning blorty this summer.

Yes, we actually did want another.

Seriously. It was not an accident.

NO I AM NOT COMPLETELY CRAZY!

(I know you didn’t say that OUT LOUD but I heard your brain. You think very loudly.)

We were keeping it a secret until we passed the 1st trimester safely. And I discovered something: because my blogging is intimately tied up with my ability to say whatever I want about whatever is current and pertinent in my daily life, as I kept this big secret inside, I found I had no ability or interest whatsoever to write or blog. I was tired, I was excited, I was nauseous, I was nervous, I was giddy about the fact that a few other of my friends had just revealed to me THEY were pregnant… and I was unable to write about any of it.

We told the kids and our close friends & family a couple weeks ago. Then, last week, I started to feel listless and ‘down’ and verging on being unhappy for no obvious reason.

Until I realized I hadn’t written the blog (or anything creative) for months.

Once I realized that, ideas started pouring in for new blogs. Versus the prior three months, when even when I tried my hardest to thing of a good blog, nothing seemed worth the trouble.

So… in a word, dear readers (or 2 words, to be precise):

I’m back!

Hope you’ll still have me.

c/xo,

 

Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)

 

Don't blame me for this drawing. Blame copyright laws. And my lack of funds for hiring a decent graphic artist support staff.

Flashback Friday! (The Key to Dieting – Those 3 Little Words)

posted by BatSheva Vaknin 11:35 AM
Friday, August 3, 2012

Every Friday, I post an oldie but a goodie blog for your enjoyment. To those of you who just started reading The Grownup Girl recently, enjoy the “new” blog! To those of you who have been with me from the start, but have memories like mine, enjoy the “new” blog!

And to those who were with me from the start and who already read this blog and burned it into your memory, word for word, photogenically, I say:

What are you doing wasting your time dilly-dallying on my website? Get out there and find me a book deal!

If you hate to read, just click on the audio link, below.

BatSheva (BatSheva Vaknin) – The Key To Dieting – the BLOG

Without reservation, I can tell you the quickest and surest way to get me started on a strict diet that I will adhere to no matter what temptations cross my path is for me to hear those magical three little words uttered when I least expect them. Each time it has happened – that is, each time the phrase was uttered to me and subsequently my new diet launched like a racehorse after a shotgun is fired – it came from the mouth of a small child – like a message sent directly to me from an earthly angel. You know what I mean, those big, wondering eyes look up at you with excitement and curiosity, and then without any of the adulterated filters that will come later in life, they blurt:

“Are you pregnant?”

What a nightmare. I can tell you right now, ye who have never been pregnant (don’t need to tell you moms – you grownupgirls already know what I’m saying) – the measure of joy, of being able to tell others that the reason your stomach is enormously fat is because there is a new precious soul growing snugly within, only just barely rivals the amount of anger and fury one experiences, when others suspect your enormous stomach must be the result of a pregnancy because HEAVEN FORBID someone’s stomach looks that bloated and or ginormous without a living, soon-to-be breathing soul taking up space from within.

It’s happened several times to me with adults, too – that is, a clueless adult will ask me how many months I am or some such bullshit, and I have to break it to them that I’m not pregnant, just fat, apparently, thank you very much. As recently as this morning, I attended a bris ceremony, and as I sat down at a packed table to eat my brunch, a man I’ve seen around but don’t know well stood up. “Please,” he offered, as if I needed his chair as well as mine to sit down. “I’m fine,” I smiled back at him. “No worries.”

“It’s okay,” he beamed, continuing up and away from our table. “Anyway, you are eating for two!”

It took me a good second or two to process what he meant. Lucky for him, he had departed by then. If you, dear reader, would like to avoid this & other faux pas, please refer back to my earlier blog where I break down a whole list of Do’s and Don’ts.

But for some reason, it’s when the children start to chime in – maybe it’s their innocence, and my subsequent inability to blame them in my head for being pigheaded, rude and obviously blind – that I suddenly wake up to the fact that if I don’t start and stick to a diet RIGHT NOW, my stomach will go from looking mildly swollen (or “newly pregnant”) to downright round and balloon-like (“5-6 months along”), at which point my hips, butt and face will start to fill in too.

The first time a child graciously helped me start a new diet was about six months ago. Looking straight into my belly (the height her head came to), my neighbor’s eight year old asked sweetly, “Are you pregnant?” Two weeks later my husband and I started the Suzanne Somers Diet, and four months later, I was a lean, mean (just kidding – I’m really nice), dieting machine.

Then I fell off the wagon. Or more accurately, I just felt like, ‘my body looks pretty great now, so why don’t I eat that piece of pizza/cake/cookie/brownie/plate of pasta/you fill in the blank_____ right now since it looks so good/smells so good and I’m really hungry/tired but want to stay up late/I’m bored/I’m with friends who are eating/I’m alone?’

I went from dieting six days a week and cheating once a week (okay, twice), to eating whatever I wanted six days a week and sticking to my diet once a week. I also took a new job three months ago, so with that my gym attendance deflated from the robust 4-5 times a week it had been prior, to the current 1-2 times a week. I had gotten so slim, so in shape that it really didn’t matter, the food, the gym; it didn’t seem to be affecting me at all… until…

“Mommy, you look like you have a baby in your tummy!” were the exact words my four year old exclaimed to me today. Her words tinged, I might add, with the slightest bit of hope and fear, due to the fact that she’s often asked for a little brother but is not quite sure whether it would be exactly the party she hopes it will be if it does happen…

Lucky for you, baby, there is no such life-changing occasion about to present itself in your life (i.e., a new sibling). There is however, a new life-changing event taking place in mine…

Diet starts tomorrow.

c/xo,

Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)

Pregnant? Or just REALLY full?

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Flashback Friday! (This I know is True)

posted by BatSheva Vaknin 1:33 PM
Friday, January 20, 2012

Every Friday, I will post an oldie but a goodie blog for your enjoyment. To those of you who just started reading The Grownup Girl recently, enjoy the “new” blog! To those of you who have been with me from the start, but have memories like mine, enjoy the “new” blog!

And to those who were with me from the start and who already read this blog and burned it into your memories, word for word, photogenically, I say:

What are you doing wasting your time dilly-dallying on my website? Get out there and find me a book deal!

If you hate to read, just click on the audio link, below. !

BatSheva (BatSheva Vaknin) – This I know is True – the BLOG

I’ve lived a long while, and learned much in my 28 or so – COUGH – years… and I thought it’s about time I stopped hogging all this important information, and start sharing it with the world. So here goes!

True:

1.      You should never ask a woman if she’s pregnant. NEVER. DO YOU HEAR ME?? I don’t care if it’s been two years since she gave birth, that belly she has is from her last pregnancy. I know her stomach is enormous. I know her stomach appears to be bigger this week than it was last week. Don’t. Ask her. If she’s pregnant.

2.      The reason women’s boobs get gigantic when they are pregnant is NOT because they are filling with milk. The milk doesn’t come until the baby is born, dummy. The big boobs are there for one reason and one reason alone: to distract your husband from your large belly and big ass. God is brilliant.

3.      If you throw gum on the ground, you’ll step on gum within a week or so. Don’t tempt fate. Trust me on this one.

4.      If you like food more than alcohol, you are probably Jewish. Seriously, check your lineage on your mom’s side. Told you.

5.      Chocolate is good for you. Period.

6.      Don’t trust anyone who tells you they have found their soulmate. In fact, TRUST that they have NOT found their soulmate if they tell you they found their soulmate. Off the top of my head, I can think of two friends, very spiritual, sharing, and smart women. They both “knew” they had met their soulmates. I was jealous. Until, a couple years later, when one of those two women had married a completely different guy. The other married her “soulmate”… and then divorced him. She’s remarried now to a different guy. I mean, I’m into my husband and everything, but who am I to know from soulmate?

7.      Drinking olive oil before drinking a lot of alcohol does NOT prevent you from getting wasted, nor does it prevent you from getting alcohol poisoning the next day. If my kids ever read this blog, I’m just guessing about this one, I wouldn’t really know since I’ve never gotten drunk.

8.      Crap. I had a really good one, but I forgot it.

9.      Some of the smartest and best people didn’t go to college, and some didn’t even graduate high school. I can say that with authority, because I graduated Yale with straight A’s, and some of my best friends and peers never came close to college.

a.      Corollary: Happiness is more important than getting into a “good” school.

b.      Corollary to that Corollary: On the other hand, going to a good college does help you think of cool words like “Corollary.”

10.      If you forget something you were going to say or do, go back to the exact physical place you were when you first had the idea. You’ll see – do that, and you’ll remember what you had forgotten! Argh, but I’m sitting right where I was before; why can’t I remember what I wanted to say for number 8?? It was such a good one!!

On that note…

c/xo,

Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)

Yummy on Salad. Not so much before drinking 17 kinds of alcohol.

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Flashback Friday! (Hung Over)

posted by BatSheva Vaknin 12:46 PM
Friday, December 2, 2011

Flashback Friday!

Every Friday, I will post an oldie but a goodie blog for your enjoyment. To those of you who just started reading The Grownup Girl recently, enjoy the “new” blog! To those of you who have been with me from the start, but have memories like mine, enjoy the “new” blog!

And to those who were with me from the start and who already read this blog and burned it into your memories, word for word, photogenically, I say:

What are you doing wasting your time dilly-dallying on my website? Get out there and find me a book deal!

If you hate to read, just click on the audio link, below.

BatSheva (BatSheva Vaknin) – HUNG OVER the BLOG

Do you ever drink so much that you have a total and all-out blast?

And then get alcohol poisoning the next day?

I’m ashamed to admit that that was a semi-often occurrence for me in my earlier adult life, say from the age of around 17 up until the ripe older but still young age of 27.

Every time I was dizzy and throwing up, I would swear to myself that I’d never do that again. For about 10 years, I wasn’t so good at keeping that promise to myself.

But ultimately, as my life changed, I grew into a much healthier version of my old self (yes, therapy, yes, yoga, yes, discovering God and spirituality, yes to every other cliché you can think of, but hey, if it works, it works!). So that, combined with having 3 kids & the lack of drinking that automatically goes with being pregnant and breastfeeding, meant I had all but cut the stuff out of my life.

Until.

Every heard of Purim? It’s a Jewish holiday – or in my world, a Kabbalistic holiday, where you are supposed to dress up, listen to “the whole Megilah,” and drink. Or more specifically, get drunk.

As I mentioned, over the past 7 years, I’ve been either pregnant or breastfeeding every single Purim, so I haven’t been able to fulfill that last requirement. But this year… I am still breastfeeding, but not much. Time to get drunk, I said to myself!

And so I did.

And I had fun! I danced. I flirted. I badgered my husband mercilessly, and he was a great sport, he took it all in stride and we had fun together. I (allegedly – this part I didn’t remember at all until I got some mysterious texts and messages later “thanking me” for the talks, and then it all started to come back) – took friends aside and told them what they needed to change about themselves in order to reach their true potential, and generally did all the other fun things that you can only get away with when you are drunk and everyone else is either drunk or at least understanding of your drunkenness.

And then came the barfing.

All day Sunday. Heaving. Even when there was nothing left to throw up, I kept throwing up. (Sorry, to those of you who just ate.) My head spun. My skull felt like it was about to crack open. My husband racked up about a thousand Husband Points (yes, we do keep track, men, we have a whole secret scoring system) by letting me stay in bed all day and taking care of the kids even though he was also hung over and had only slept about three hours.

I felt badly that my daughter missed her beloved ballet class that day. I was too sick to take her. I felt stupid for mixing about 5 different kinds of alcohol and skipping the food – my 20 year old self would have rolled her eyes at my naïveté. And I was annoyed at myself that I didn’t remember until half the day was over that I needed to take a particular homeopathic remedy – Nux Vomica for all you alcoholics out there – that rapidly and most excellently erases all signs of alcohol poisoning (along with another 3 hour nap) .

But mostly? I was glad that I had gone a little crazy. Just for one night, and for a good cause. I guess sometimes we have to act like a stupid teenager again to remember why we’re so glad we are not stupid teenagers anymore!

Thoughts?

c/xo,

Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)

Drunken blond cheerleaders never looked so good, right? (Or so tranny-ish)

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FLASHBACK FRIDAY! (Which form of Birth Control Sucks the Least?)

posted by Sheva 11:31 AM
Friday, October 7, 2011

Gentle readers, because I hate to think of you arriving at my blog on a Friday-Sunday and landing on the same old-same old blog (from Thursday), I’ve decided to launch a new initiative:

Flashback Friday!

Every Friday, I will post an oldie but a goodie blog for your enjoyment. To those of you who just started reading The Grownup Girl recently, enjoy the “new” blog! To those of you who have been with me from the start, but have memories like mine, enjoy the “new” blog!

And to those who were with me from the start and who already read this blog and burned it into your memories, word for word, photogenically, I say:

What are you doing wasting your time dilly-dallying on my website? Get out there and find me a book deal!

BTW, if you hate to read, just click on the audio link, below.

BatSheva (BatSheva Vaknin) – Birth Control SUCKS – the BLOG

In honor of the porn website that is a “the” away from being my URL, I’ve created… a GrownUpGirl Pop Quiz about sex, just for you!

Actually, it’s about birth control. Ready?

Please consider the following options and answer honestly: Which form of Birth Control do you hate the most? Is it…?

a) The Pill! Because it pumps you full of hormones, makes you (choose as many adjectives as you want): fat, break out, hold water, worry about what future effect taking the Pill will have on you? Or, if you’re breastfeeding, like me, maybe you hate it because every frickin time you forget to take that little pill at EXACTLY the same time each day (something impossible to accomplish, even for ‘To Do Checklist Freaks’ like me), you get – yippe! Your period (again)! Like, right before I finally trashed my last package and swore myself off the pill, I had gotten my 3rd period in a row in the same month. Mother fucker cock sucker!

Sorry, Gentle readers. That wasn’t me. That was the Pill talking just now.

b) The Sponge! Because, like every single woman I’ve ever met who has used the sponge, you got pregnant from it! You know who you are.

c) The Diaphragm! That is, if you’re like me and you can’t get the damn thing in there straight to save your life. And all that gooey spermicide you have to squeeze into it. Double he-ll no.

d) The IUD! Is it because they outlawed it for a while back in our mom’s day, and although we may like our bad-boy men, we do not like our birth control to be unlawful. Nor do I like the idea of hormones being pumped through my system on a daily basis, nor do I like the idea of a copper coil being inserted into my vagina, nor do I like getting anything but my husband’s penis inserted into my vagina, aside from tampons, of course, but I don’t exactly “like” that, it’s just a necessity. (refer to section a for details)

e) Drumroll please… the VCF! (Look it up, older moms like me who didn’t use birth control for a while because we wanted to get pregnant.) Now looky here, what’s this? My friend tells me it’s the best, easiest, coolest birth control around??? NOT. Whoever can get that damned film to stick itself properly in front of your cervix gets a standing ovation from me. I went through an entire box and still my husband found it stuck to him when we were finished having sex (it was supposed to have effortlessly dissolved within me).

f) Condoms! Who doesn’t like that dry rubbery feeling try to grind its way into your most sacred of spaces? Or the way some men’s you-know-whats just shrivel and go to sleep at the mere sight of a condom? Or the way you have to remove it afterwards and you feel like you are in the good company of hookers and teenagers all over the modern world?

*** Note: to unmarried sex-having girls and married but worried that he’s cheating girls: I’m sure there are lots of amazing things about condoms, like, for example, how you can’t get a horrible disease if he wears one correctly. So choose “f”, okay?

Okay ladies – you have your first official pop quiz. And to my sistahs, the lesbians & the virgins, just consider yourselves LUCKY that this survey doesn’t apply to you!

c/xo,

Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)

PS. Tune in again! Ciao for now, amigos. c/xo

They may look pretty but they still SUCK.

Cigarettes, Gas and a Sharpie

posted by Sheva 11:39 AM
Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Ahhhhh…. The sweet, sweet smell of cigarettes, gasoline and a sharpie.

Seriously.

I’ve never had a particularly sharp sense of smell. So I missed out all those opportunities to enjoy the subtle aromas of a delicious meal, or a spring day, or a delicate flower. But generally, I’m grateful for it – most smells we encounter every day are, after all, pretty disgusting. Pee on a public subway/street/stairwell, someone at the gym farts (never me), dirty diapers… I do smell these things, and they are gross, but I’m grateful I don’t actually smell them that much.

Actually, there was one time in my life I DID have a very acute sense of smell – when I was pregnant with my 2nd child. For the other two pregnancies, my nose stayed mercifully muted, but with Racheli in my belly, the world was suddenly awake and alive! Roses, perfumes, food, spices, trees, the grass… wow! So this was what it’s like to really have a sense of smell!

And then… I had to change my son’s diapers with that same heightened sense of smell.

Yeah.

Lots of throwing up with that second pregnancy.

I remember watching as a friend of mine, who was only in her first or second month of pregnancy and not telling anyone yet, blanched when she stepped into a room, muttering, “wow, some people’s perfume is just really strong,” then ran to the bathroom to throw up. Dead giveaway.

In my normal, not-pregnant-with-Racheli state of being, my nose minds its own business. Doesn’t make a fuss over amazing smells, doesn’t complain too much when something stinks. There are a few exceptions; I hate the smell of cigars so much that it makes me feel like throwing up, but for every cigar there is a cigarette – a smell that I shouldn’t reasonably enjoy, but I do.

I like to walk on the street past a smoker and breathe in deeply. I don’t want a smoker living with me, and I don’t think I’d like the smell in my house, on my clothes, in my car, etc. But once in a while, just a whiff as I stroll down the street… maybe it’s nostalgia for my teen years, but it does bring a little smile to my face.

And gasoline? Let’s put it this way: when I was a pre-teen, I had a massive sticker collection. Puffies, sparkly stickers, ones with liquid inside, furry ones, and of course, scratch and sniff. My favorite scratch and sniff sticker was a car. A car that smelled of gasoline.

And finally, the Sharpie… well, who doesn’t love the smell of a fresh Sharpie in the morning?

c/xo,
Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)

Mmmmm, delicious!

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