Saturday, March 03, 2007

The Last OB Show

My pre-op appointment went swimmingly. I had a brief battle of wills over whether or not I was going to get an internal check (answer: NO. I have never dilated or effaced in my life. They had me on a pitocin drip for ten hours and I managed one centimetre, and that's being optimistic. No way I'm shedding my knickers for anything other than sex or a bath at this point, Mmmkay?)

Blood pressure excellent, Fiver's heartbeat great, weight ... I'd gained 1/2 a pound. I'm telling you, I'll be surprised if this kid is much bigger than 8lbs.

I encountered an interesting specimen of female in the waiting room beforehand.

I was flipping through one of the baby magazines in the waiting room ("Birthday parties for two-year-olds: are 40 guests too many?") She sailed in, about as old as my car, manicure and pedicure, hideous Prada handbag, maternity shirt that fit like a sausage casing and low slung jeans that exposed a crescent of cute little soccer ball belly that she clearly felt everyone should be honoured to see.

She went up to the desk and gave her name and the receptionist couldn't seem to find her file. She searched about while Miss Priss looked about in a bored manner and checked her cellphone (which was supposed to be OFF as the sign on the door clearly stated).

Finally the lady behind the counter finds the file - in a different stack - she looks in it, looks at the clock, frowns. It was 20 minutes past the hour.

"Yeah," Miss Priss bubbles, "I'm late!" Then she giggles as if she's just the cutest thing EVAR.

The receptionist says, just a touch tightly: "Well, you're pregnant, so we'll forgive you."

Another loud giggle from Prissy who twirls and sits close to me. She takes a moment (after checking her cell again) to stare slowly and rather rudely around the room at the rest of the patients.

A moment later a rather harassed looking young man shows up, finds Miss Priss, sits. He clearly had been parking the car, having dropped her off at the door (bless her heart, she can't be expected to walk, she's pregnant!) Prissy immediately begins whispering to him. Since she's so close I can discern that she's talking about the other ladies in the waiting room*. She even points a few times.

This goes on for a bit.

At this juncture I deeply regret that I lack the ability to fart loudly at will.

I don't know whether Fiver sensed my deepening disdain or what, but he picked that moment to begin thrashing about like an 8lb bass (those of you who have been pregnant know this one - where you can see the random knee or elbow bulge out alarmingly) and I did what I always do when he starts his calisthenics: I patted my belly and murmured: "Settle down in there, boy."

This arrested Prissy in mid-whisper. You'd think I'd started stripping my clothing off or had attempted to swallow my own arm. This chick was gawping at me.

I looked up at her - she was still staring at me, open mouthed - and gave her my sweetest "eat me, you ridiculous waste of carbon" look (now with eyebrow lift!)

Her significant other - bless him, he'd apparently not noticed my grievous social faux pas of speaking to my own belly - smiled wanly at me, I smiled back, and Prissy immediately dropped her gaze and engaged him in conversation. Cuz, ya know, we can't not be focused on her.

I went back to my magazine ("Drop that last five pounds of baby weight and look normal again!") and I overhear one last exchange before the nurse comes for me ...

"When I came in," Priss enthuses in a loud whisper, "I said I was sorry for being so late and she said it was ok cuz I'm pregnant!" (Giggle! Giggle!) Then snappishly: "God! I wonder how much longer it's gonna be?"

Uhm, honey? You did NOT apologize for crap. Do you remember the chick** in You've Got Mail? The one who was dating Tom Hanks's character? You are that person, cupcake. You were a portrait of self-absorption and disregard for every other person in the room - including your poor, poor husband - and I wish you were reading this blog right now, although you probably wouldn't even recognize yourself.

Get a clue, sweetheart. In a while your baby will be here and the universe will no longer revolve around YOU.

That and I'm honing my fart-on-demand skillz.

* The worst part was that the young man was clearly embarrassed by her overt gossip report. He was fairly squirming in his seat.

**Played perfectly by Parker Posey (say that three times fast). Remember the scene in the elevator?


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posted by MrsEvilGenius @ 6:00 pm   3 comments


At 10:03 pm, Anonymous sherry said...

Oh my heavens, Blue...I think I tooted a few times laughing at this post. How frickin' precious, with her Prada shit, and ass-kissing hubby. She'll be the jackass that'll register for (and receive!) a cashmire baby blanket, that I can only hope will be shit and puked on in the first few minutes of use.

At 10:59 pm, Anonymous VegaVixen said...

Got a feeling that Prissy is headed for some post-partum depression once the show's no longer about her. I almost feel sorry for the poor guy who was with her, but he surely knew her well enough to expect this type of scene.

Hope all goes well tomorrow, Blue!

At 10:40 am, Blogger Michele said...

I would so love to be around when the realization hits her in right in the gut that once the baby is born, it is ALL ABOUT THE BABY and she is just a wet nurse.



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