When you are 38 weeks pregnant the physical becomes a bit challenging to say the least.
You might have to rape your husband to begin with.
Get rid of all your insecurities.
Position yourself so the piles and other pregnancy extras don't show.
Once coitus is successfully established you have to shake the idea that you might kill your child the same way you gave it life, before you actually gave it life proper.
Heavily pregnant sex is as down to earth as sex ever gets.
Yet it has the utmost surreal dimension lurking in the deepest dark as well:
"He touches my feet and I can not breathe. just too intense"
"I do not recall copulating with a horse, but I do have physical evidence to prove it."
"Honey, and I hate myself for asking this, but would you like me to do that?"
30/04/2011
28/04/2011
25/04/2011
New things
I started painting my nails.
I think it is a bad sign.
Three weeks from now I wont have a breathing chance to do so so I am not overly concerned.
Nail varnish. French mini manicure. How very peculiar.
And than I have not told you about my new-found fetishes relating to ice cubes (tiny ones) and bath sponges. Hmmm.
Oh yeah.
Must go now. My nails a dry.
I think it is a bad sign.
Three weeks from now I wont have a breathing chance to do so so I am not overly concerned.
Nail varnish. French mini manicure. How very peculiar.
And than I have not told you about my new-found fetishes relating to ice cubes (tiny ones) and bath sponges. Hmmm.
Oh yeah.
Must go now. My nails a dry.
24/04/2011
Bite me
They will try to scare you with all possible means.
All of them.
Things to worry about will be thrown at you from all angles imaginable.
And than all angles unimaginable.
For instance.
There is this little thing called transition, somewhere between the first and second part of labour, that supposed to be the worst ever pain known to humankind. Until you hit crowning and than it supposed to turn up a notch, where the humble vagina becomes the ring of fire. Thank you.
But back to transition. The woman who runs our antenatal classes tells us that our man at this stage should just step away from our labouring selfs, for we become unpredictable to the point of dangerous. Our other half should run for your life.
Our pretty faces will twist in furious anger.
Our cherry lips will spill abuse.
And we will hit and we will bite.
Or we will withdraw into some cocoon filled with pain and motionless silence.
I told the man, that I find it a bit unfair that she constantly keeps on adding to the black list.
He though the biting was over the top as well.
I know that I have myself a real man.
And I know that he loves me for real.
He just looked me in the eye, and said: Babe, it at that point you feel like you need to bite me, than you bite me, ok?
Fuck yeah.
All of them.
Things to worry about will be thrown at you from all angles imaginable.
And than all angles unimaginable.
For instance.
There is this little thing called transition, somewhere between the first and second part of labour, that supposed to be the worst ever pain known to humankind. Until you hit crowning and than it supposed to turn up a notch, where the humble vagina becomes the ring of fire. Thank you.
But back to transition. The woman who runs our antenatal classes tells us that our man at this stage should just step away from our labouring selfs, for we become unpredictable to the point of dangerous. Our other half should run for your life.
Our pretty faces will twist in furious anger.
Our cherry lips will spill abuse.
And we will hit and we will bite.
Or we will withdraw into some cocoon filled with pain and motionless silence.
I told the man, that I find it a bit unfair that she constantly keeps on adding to the black list.
He though the biting was over the top as well.
I know that I have myself a real man.
And I know that he loves me for real.
He just looked me in the eye, and said: Babe, it at that point you feel like you need to bite me, than you bite me, ok?
Fuck yeah.
11/04/2011
06/04/2011
Anonymus
The boy has no name.
We cant find it.
Other peoples views suck.
I hate other people with their children. Yeah, you can talk naming him Otto. Retard.
I hate other people without children. Whats your name? Peter. Shut up already, will you?
Favourite: Think about him sitting in the school and his name is called.How would that little boy feel with a name like that?
The boy, my son, should just come to me and tell me: My name is X. In my dream I mean.
Some say - fully unpromted naturally - that we should wait until we see the kid and than look deep into his eyes and than it will come to us.
What id he will look like a beaten up meatloaf after birth?
What will I be like after birth?
The man will be traumatised for sure.
Is that really the most appropiate moment to make a decision for his whole life?
Do I want to have the, yes I did name you Bela, but prior to that you massacared my ladygarden? No.
We cant find it.
Other peoples views suck.
I hate other people with their children. Yeah, you can talk naming him Otto. Retard.
I hate other people without children. Whats your name? Peter. Shut up already, will you?
Favourite: Think about him sitting in the school and his name is called.How would that little boy feel with a name like that?
The boy, my son, should just come to me and tell me: My name is X. In my dream I mean.
Some say - fully unpromted naturally - that we should wait until we see the kid and than look deep into his eyes and than it will come to us.
What id he will look like a beaten up meatloaf after birth?
What will I be like after birth?
The man will be traumatised for sure.
Is that really the most appropiate moment to make a decision for his whole life?
Do I want to have the, yes I did name you Bela, but prior to that you massacared my ladygarden? No.
04/04/2011
Love Supreme
You know there are different types of love.
The love you you carry around on key chains, and have printed on t-shirt.
The ready-made type, like heart-shape cupcakes and mass produced valentines cards.
In an old song by Little Paul and the Badger the timely question was asked: is love done by saying I love you and other nice things many times?
Puzzled me for a while, this love thing and I loved the different explanations even though none seemed satisfactory. Like the androgyns, who were chopped in two by jealous gods, only to seek their other half - literally - for the whole of their life. The quest of love.
My own version, that sufficed for a wile, was stolen from Jung who said something - brace yourself for the layman language philosopher friends and shut up - that the constant imbalance between our two integral parts: the human animal and the intellectual makes existence a struggle, since when the human animal is satisfied the intellectual is starving and when we full-fill all our intellectual needs the human animal gets sidelined and gets sick.
Well I thought - at the tender age of 16 - that love heals this bipolar nightmare, with sticking a balance. I know it is not very feminist, but I thought man is the solution.
Surely there is one out there who will both fuck you well and talk to you about interesting things.
And of course there are man equally stimulating in bad and over coffee.
But love is so much more complex than that.
Love learns to read you over the years.
Love makes you a better person.
Love is in fact stronger than death.
Ok hormones lets go for a walk.
The love you you carry around on key chains, and have printed on t-shirt.
The ready-made type, like heart-shape cupcakes and mass produced valentines cards.
In an old song by Little Paul and the Badger the timely question was asked: is love done by saying I love you and other nice things many times?
Puzzled me for a while, this love thing and I loved the different explanations even though none seemed satisfactory. Like the androgyns, who were chopped in two by jealous gods, only to seek their other half - literally - for the whole of their life. The quest of love.
My own version, that sufficed for a wile, was stolen from Jung who said something - brace yourself for the layman language philosopher friends and shut up - that the constant imbalance between our two integral parts: the human animal and the intellectual makes existence a struggle, since when the human animal is satisfied the intellectual is starving and when we full-fill all our intellectual needs the human animal gets sidelined and gets sick.
Well I thought - at the tender age of 16 - that love heals this bipolar nightmare, with sticking a balance. I know it is not very feminist, but I thought man is the solution.
Surely there is one out there who will both fuck you well and talk to you about interesting things.
And of course there are man equally stimulating in bad and over coffee.
But love is so much more complex than that.
Love learns to read you over the years.
Love makes you a better person.
Love is in fact stronger than death.
Ok hormones lets go for a walk.
01/04/2011
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