just stick a bow on it

It amazes me that sex and baby making have anything to do with one another because there is nothing sexy about this stage of pregnancy for me.

I woke up from my THREE HOUR NAP to find a cranky husband.
"what's going on, cranky husband?"
"I didn't get to nap."
"I'm sorry. How come?"
"You were snoring. I couldn't sleep through the racket."
"Huh."

And not only was I snoring, but my own nap had been interrupted in the middle by my drooling. I had been drooling so much that midway through my THREE HOUR NAP, the puddle of drool reached my face and woke me up.

I'm harping on the fact that I had a THREE HOUR NAP, not to make you totally jealous-- which you are--but because I'm dreading the third trimester with its constant sleepiness and apathy. I mean, where can I go from a THREE HOUR NAP? A five hour nap? Brief interludes of consciousness?

But back to my insane sexiness. After my three hour respite of drooling and snoring, Kent noticed an errant hair growing from my chin. It apparently was trying to reach the other hairs on my head because it was growing long and fast.
"Let me get it," says my oh-so-helpful husband.
"No way. I've already reached my quota of activites designed to turn my husband off forever today."
"Oh come on. Its calling me."
"Really? This one stray hair-- of all my body parts-- is begging for your attention? I am such a sexy beast. Fine, pull it."

Friday evening my husband and I had a date to meet up with some friends of his for a birthday dinner. This was a big deal because we haven't been going anywhere in the evenings together due to my extreme nausea and sleepiness after five pm. So I decide to look, as Lola from charlie and lola says, extra specially special. I pulled out a maternity dress handed down to me from a friend that I'd been especially excited to wear. It is a deep pink color with a great batik-type print. Lovely. But when I put it on, I looked like a ten year old with a thyroid problem. Why? Well, the designers decided to place a fat brown sash under the breast portion of the dress to highlight the requisite maternity empire waist. Apparently, there is a commandment in maternity design that says, "Thou must have an empire waist."

But this sash, instead of hugging my new voluptuous curves, slopes downward at the sides, emphasizing my non-existent waist. AND the v-neck stays high enough that not even a hint of cleavage peeks out. What the hell?

To add insult to injury, the designers stick little bows at random spots on the dress-- at the v-neck, at the sleeves, low on the sides. It reminds me of my Christmas wrapping strategy: I look at the crinkled mess I've made of whatever gift I'm wrapping and say, "I'll just stick a bow on it. It'll be fine." This, apparently, is the same strategy used by maternity dress designers. I can imagine the conversation:
"Um, why does that model look like a ten year old with a thyroid problem?"
"Well, she's pregnant."
"Yeah, which implies that she has working female parts. Why do we not see any proof of them?"
"Well, she's pregnant. She's not supposed to have any sex appeal."
"Then you have achieved your goal admirably. But can't we pretty it up somehow?"
"Sure, we'll stick some bows on it."
"Great!"