I Wrote a Book

It's official. I wrote my first novel. As of right now, it's still a steaming pile of poop (I'm a parent now...I have to watch my language), but there's potential there. I'm supposed to have a final draft done within the next month to complete my MFA, so here's to spending every waking moment editing, revising and rereading this thing. I may want to kill my protagonist by the end of it.

The experience has taught me a lot, like to plan ahead, dammit. I spent the first 1.5 years of my masters writing the first half of the book and hating every second of it. The past six months have been spent revising that half, and figuring out what the hell was next (and wishing I had figured it out sooner). I always fancied myself as the sort of person who has to write it in order to know what I'm writing about. I still think that's true, but now I know how to harness that power. I can't stop writing until the draft is done, otherwise I get bogged down in the details of scenes that I'll likely delete later anyways.

I've also learned to kill your darlings. I know, I know, the phrase is cliche nowadays. But it's true. I deleted over 40,000 words. That's half a novel gone. And my manuscript is so much better served for it. I'm not going to lie, I cried with each stroke of the backspace key, but it was so worth it.

Finally, I learned that I can do this. Fuck yeah! (the little one is asleep...I can swear sometimes). I WROTE A FUCKING NOVEL. Now I need to actually make it a good novel. That's a whole different post...

How to Make a Pregnant Lady Feel Like Shit

I am thirteen weeks pregnant and finally feeling like something other than a zombie. I was showing off my “bump” at work. I felt happy and proud, like I finally was at a good place with this pregnancy, a place that I could enjoy. But as soon as that happy feeling came, it was washed away by the words of a friend when she said, “You really shouldn’t be showing until five months.”   She smiled. It was a chide, a little joke. Haha, you’re too big. I know she thought it was a light-hearted comment, something funny. But I didn’t. The truth is, I found it incredibly hurtful.

I’ve struggled with trying to have a healthy self-image since adolescence. My weight has yo-yoed since I was sixteen and I’ve been on both sides of the “healthy weight” line. Before I got pregnant, I was the heaviest I had ever been in my life. I felt disgusted with myself, defeated and ugly.

When I found out I was pregnant, I was incredibly happy, but also anxious. The nausea, vomiting and weight loss that accompanied my first two months didn’t help. I couldn’t stomach fruits or vegetables. Peanut butter and toast were my staple foods.  In fact, losing weight made me feel like I was already failing at being a mother, like I wasn’t able to do the most basic thing for my unborn baby—give it the nutrients it needs. Plus, the weight loss made me once again feel like I had no control over my own body.

My weight has stabilized. Although I haven’t gained any, I’ve stopped losing. According to my doctors, I’m healthy and according to my wardrobe, I’ve gone up two pants sizes from my pre-pregnancy size. I feel much better, but I’m still anxious about my body and my pregnancy.

While shopping for maternity clothes this past weekend, Husband worked really hard to make me feel comfortable with my changing body. He encouraged me to get outfits that accentuated my growing tummy and show off my “bump.” The trip was a success, and I left the store feeling much less overwhelmed and much more beautiful.

But then, today, my friend said those words.  “You really shouldn’t be showing until five months.”  All those good feeling immediately came undone.

Not only did what she say bring back my insecurities about my body, and my pregnancy, but it is also completely inaccurate. Most women begin showing between 12-20 weeks for their first pregnancy, and every pregnancy is different (even pregnancies in the same woman). Some women begin showing as early as 8 weeks. Some women don’t show until they are 7 months. The strength of a woman’s abdominal muscles, how many kids she’s had before, and the tilt of a woman’s uterus, can affect how early a woman begins to show.

As this person is both woman and a feminist, it surprised me that she thought it would be okay to say what my body should be looking like. At the moment, I was stunned into silence. A nervous laugh is all that escaped my lips, along with the line, “Well, I was pudgy to begin with…”

I shouldn't feel this way. I know I have power over how I feel, and how other people’s words impact me. But at the same time, do I really have to put up with this? Seeing headlines in the wake of the birth of the royal baby have been bad enough—speculations on how quickly Kate will lose the baby weight, or the comparisons drawn between Kim Kardashian and Kate’s bodies during pregnancy.

My body is my own. I’m already under the care of a doctor (a person who is actually qualified to make judgments on my changing body during my pregnancy). I already have to put up with the media and society fueling my insecurities and anxieties, strangers making assumptions about my pregnancy and my person based solely on my body. Do I really have to put up with this from people I know too?  

If You Can't Say Anything Nice...

“If you can't say something nice, say nothing at all.”

Do you remember that old adage? I sure do. It seems to be lost on a lot of people these days. I was reminded of this when I checked into one of my favorite blogs today and found this: http://groupthink.jezebel.com/thank-you-i-love-unsolicited-opinions-on-my-appearance-486185660

In the blurb, the author shares her experience of some guy (who works in the service industry and should know better) made a critical and unsolicited statement of the author’s appearance, while simultaneously making sexual innuendo. Good job, guy. Good job.

It seems that many strangers are willing to offer you up their personal opinions of your appearance, especially if you’re a woman. When I worked in retail, it happened on numerous occasions. The following is just a small sampling:

-          That skirt doesn’t look that nice on you.

-          I’d prefer you without the dramatic makeup.

-          Why do you wear your hair like that?

The most heinous event I can remember is one man in particular, who was, shall we say, rotund. The following was a brief exchange:

Man: “When are you due?”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Man: “The baby. When are you due?”

Me: “I’m not pregnant.”

Man: “Oh. Well, you must have just had a baby.”

Me: “No.”

Man: “Well, too many ice cream sundaes then, huh?”

Go. To. Hell.

Throughout that exchange I managed to keep my cool. Despite all my not-so-subtle hints that he should shut the eff up, he continued on. I was firm when I said, “No.” My body language was stiff and uncomfortable. I looked at him directly in the eyes when I told him, without a smile on my face, that I was not pregnant. Despite all this, he felt it was his obligation to make very vocal commentary not only on my appearance, but my body. My body is mine, not yours. You’re not allowed to talk about it unless I give you permission, and you’re sure as hell not allowed to publically tell me how fat you think I am. (BTW, I have a healthy BMI and exercise regularly, not that that should even matter. No one deserves to by body shammed or publicly criticized over their appearance.)

So here’s my question in all of this: Why is it that some people feel the need to make unsolicited commentary on other people’s bodies / appearances? Granted, this is mostly a lady problem, as this is something I know countless other women deal with regularly. But what compels a person to go out of their way and essentially insult a stranger?

I’m not sure why it happens, but it does. So I guess, let me just reiterate the old saying: If you don’t have anything nice to say, then shut the hell up.