Gone Fishing

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Sure you’ve heard the excuse before for not being able to write a blog post, but I’m serious this time… I just had a baby. As traumatic and awesome as it was and is, the last thing I can do is think beyond ME WANT PIZZA, ME WANT WATER. So I will spare you any uninspired posts and instead invite you to look through the archives of the Platform for the next couple of weeks while I recoup and stare at my baby.

Happy holidays and see you in the New Year! Well, if we survive the end of the world, that is.

Dear Diary

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Dear Pregnancy Diary,

I’m one day away from being two weeks past my due date and getting induced! I know I should be upset yelling out, “Are you F’ING KIDDING ME?!” but I’m not Dear Diary, because after waiting this long, I no longer believe I’m pregnant. Isn’t it wonderful? I can’t remember anything I learned in my birthing class, I am no longer excited about what’s about to come because I don’t know what I’m waiting for anymore, and I don’t even believe I’m a woman. You would think that enduring 10 ½ months of the most female-specific experience would convince me otherwise, but no one in this episode of Twilight Zone can fool me anymore. My name’s Harry, and I’m just your friendly neighborhood trucker with a bloated belly.

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How could I have gotten it so wrong Diary? Spending half of my year’s blog writing about pregnancy when I really shouldn’t have been writing at all. You know how many projects I left untouched in the garage as a result? I’m actually a little embarrassed. What kind of a man am I to forget who he is? I should never have complained about swollen ankles, fearing giving birth, or even trying to balance getting my career moving and having a family. Boring! Wow, I must have sounded like a real woman.

Ouch, my back. Hold on… No I’m not having a contraction. Backaches are what real men go through from all the hard work they do during the day. I just can’t wait to get this blog back on track. No more being scared of anything and getting all personal. I mean obviously I’ll need a few weeks to regroup–you don’t think you’re a woman for as long as I did and not need a few beers to recover. Oh wait Diary… sorry my stomach is tightening. Must have been the extra spicy sauce on those chicken wings I picked up at Big Wangs. Anyway, I’ll finish what I can for the rest of the year, but believe you me, by January this blog is going back to making comments about politics and the way we live here in the United States of America. Obviously I won’t be able to talk about women ’cause I wouldn’t know about that. But I will talk and not listen ‘cause that’s what a man does. Yep. Real manly like. Holy hell, Dear Diary! I think I’m gonna have a baby!

Fear Of Expulsion

childvictimI should be excited right? That’s how mom’s are supposed to feel as the time nears for fetal expulsion. We’re supposed to seem unstoppable walking for hours off-balance in hopes of getting that baby out. We eat spicy foods, drink castor oil, make a restaurant in Studio City, CA very rich by perpetuating the myth of its birth inducing salad. But in the frenzied impatience, does anyone stop to think what we’re impatient for?

For weeks I’ve been on standby expecting my child to blow out from whence it came, but it does not cometh. We’re now post-due-date and the time is maddening; everything’s been taken care of so I have little to do and can’t venture too far because I know I could go into labor at any second and give some poor stranger the awful task of mopping up my mess. So instead I’ve been lying around, brushing up on phone skills with family and friends, watching entire seasons of America’s Next Top Model and reading through Facebook every five minutes. As you would guess these passing time activities have led to boredom, boredom leading to frustration, frustration leading to impatience, impatience leading to killing time by taking long looks at my naked pregnant body’s proportions in a mirror which at last led me to realize: Holy Sh**! HOW THE F*$% IS THIS BASKETBALL SUPPOSED TO GET OUT OF MY COOCH?!

So while everyone is cheering this baby on, I’m feeling stuck and scared–real scared and with no one in my corner. My husband is talking to my belly: coaxing it, threatening it, bribing it. Friends, families, neighbors, the maintenance man at our apartment complex, everyone is cheering for me and my baby like we’re on a rooftop and they want to see us jump.

At this late in the game, I know I should be much tougher and cooler about it. It’s not like I’m a 13-year-old boy being told to imagine having a baby; I’m a mature educated woman who took a 12 week birthing class called Bradley Method. I’ve watched the creepy videos with grainy footage of exhausted mothers pushing babies out oozing in purple sauce, vaginas stretching (funny they never show the after shot…hmmm) and embarrassing private moments of mothers moaning in pain. I know what’s coming up, and you know what? To hell with the beautiful power of maternity and the excitement I’ll feel after the baby comes. For now, me and 13-year-old boys agree–this is some crazy shit and OMG it’s gonna suck.

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Take My Maternity Photo, It’ll Last Longer (Part IV-Yoga)

Continued from Take My Maternity Photo, It’ll Last Longer (Part III Sweet vs Sexy)...

Healthy Yoga Girl

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Women love yoga. Especially pregnant ones. There is no other exercise that speaks to their cycles and need for new age music while breaking a sweat. It also provides just enough sweat to receive praise for taking care of themselves and their precious babies.

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You don’t even have to do yoga to say you practice it. Just take your maternity photos outside in yoga pants and a tank top to bask in maternal strength and beauty. See the power in the woman below?

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Sure you do. That’s because yoga connects pregnant women with nature. You can tell by how well they suddenly blend into their surroundings when meditating.

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So put together your best mix of Indonesian chimes, grab that yoga ball, and breathe–soon you’ll be in labor and looking just as radiant as your healthy yoga maternity photos.

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Take My Maternity Photo, It’ll Last Longer (Part III – Sweet vs Sexy)

Continued from Take My Maternity Photo, It’ll Last Longer (Part II-Haunted)

The virgin and the whore–never shall these two meet except in maternity photos. Women complain about being labeled as one or the other but when it comes to photos, who cares! Being pregnant gives you the power to be every woman, so try both limiting views of our sex.

The Sweet and Virginal

Photos by Evi T’Bolt

No matter which set of looks you go for, the Sweet and Virginal is a must. Forget about how you got pregnant in the first place, you’re about to have a baby. Mothers-to-be can show no signs of hardship and experience since that could rub off on the child. You need to convince the world that you will raise it to be as naive as you look in these photographs. After taking that once endless road of tasteless hook-ups to get to where you are, it can be difficult to remember what it was like to look this innocent. So dazzle everyone with how impossibly fresh and unjilted you still are by lightening up your make-up and dressing the same way you were expected to for that baby shower your best friend threw you. Because motherhood may be about nagging, but pregnancy is about taking grade school photos in a park pretending to be a child again.

It’s even better with flowers…

…or a large phallic tree.

TMI Sexy

Now that we have the sweet part covered, let’s get to what every woman getting a maternity photo really came for–to look hot as hell. After so many months of yoga pants and ultrasounds, a girl has got to let that inner sexy roar; and in the States that means looking raunchy and overexposed.

Preggos see models posing with their bellies like this…

…and they instantly think they can do it even sexier.

Photos by Evi T’Bolt

Although we fear having a big stomach during normal circumstances, when pregnant, it becomes like a sexy third boob demanding exposure. There’s a reason a woman got pregnant, and she wants the world to see just how she did it and will continue to do it big gut or not.

The general onlooker might not want to know this much about a pregnant woman‘s sex life, but the pregnant woman doesn’t care. She knows you think you don’t find her alluring anymore, but one look at what is going on in her bedroom is sure to make you change your mind.

Tomorrow’s posting, last but not least: Healthy Yoga Girl.

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Take My Maternity Photo, It’ll Last Longer (Part II — Haunted)

Continued from “Take My Maternity Photo, It’ll Last Longer”

It is also important in maternity photos to never take them in your own living environment. Do you think your home is cute? Moms-to-be don’t. You’ve spent most of your 9 months of fetal incubation there and that means the ugly truth of pregnancy could, so to speak, leak out. Remember this isn’t about you, it’s about the collective and propagating the ideal that pregnancy is glowing goodness. Instead, maternity photos should always take place in a professional studio for the perfectly controlled sculpted look or in the fantastical dreaminess of the great outdoors. And what look suits a Tolkien-like setting better than the Haunted?

HAUNTED

This look is meant for the baby daddy but designed by women who miss Lillith Fair. Although flowy and gauzy like The Fairy, the soundtrack is different. The previous look is inspired by Enya, while this one whispers Kate BushRunning Up That Hill” and Sarah McLaughlin circa 1994. It’s moody and sexy in a way that only women get but they keep thinking their men will see it too.  The woman who takes these photos wants her husband to find her otherworldly, fragile and frightened in spite of her 9 month cravings for taquitos.

A fairy can dance and skip with ethereal joy, but these ghostly photos express how romantically vulnerable pregnancy makes a woman wearing all white and standing still like a deer in the woods. She’s delicate wrapped like a broken arm without a cast.

Look dreamily far away. She is a damsel in distress waiting for a knight in shining armor who can rescue her and is blind enough to overlook the fact that she is way too pregnant to get on a horse.

Soon these women’s husbands will think of them as She Who Cleans Diapers, She Who Drives Mini Van, She Who Cut My Wife’s Gorgeous Long Hair To A “Death To Sex” Shorter Convenient Length, but rest assured, that these photos will haunt these men, reminding them of just how beautiful their wives were lost and roaming the woods during her momentous nine month journey.

Photos by Evi T’Bolt

To be continued tomorrow: Sweet and Virginal vs T.M.I. Sexy

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Take My Maternity Photo, It’ll Last Longer

At last a couple of weeks ago, I was finally able to participate in the new American tradition of taking maternity photos! Aside from senior year or weddings, maternity is the only other time when it’s socially acceptable for women to splurge on a professional photographer to commemorate a life-changing event. And what better way to look back on those nine grueling months of nausea, fear, body enlargement, restrictive diet, bad maternity clothes, stretch marks, acne, swollen ankles, daily aches and gas than with beauty shots! According to pregnancy lore, women are never more beautiful than when they’re really hating life.

To demonstrate how precious pregnancy is, maternity photos must exude the mythic glow preggos can’t help but blind people with. Sure non-pregnant women glow too and I’ve only been complimented on it when I’ve done up my hair and make-up, but it’s one of the few carrots pregnant ladies get, so BACK OFF! Pregnancy is magical, precious, empowering. Forget seeing a woman live in action mid-contraction–there is no glow in that! Stick to far away looks and dream somewhere deep inside that you’re Bambi while posing half-naked. We want our American preggos to be hot lioness earth mothers with enough virginal frailty to not sully our puritanical ideals of motherhood. And who better to perpetuate this unattainable image than pregnant women themselves.  In spite of their crankiness and pain they are still women, and hell if they’re not gonna look good. They know how to do it—and if you’re walking with a fetus, you had better follow suit.

It is well-known that every pregnancy is different, but maternity photo sessions are not the time to distinguish yourself from the tribe of mothers-to-be. Just like everything else to do with the breeding lifestyle, when it comes to taking photos there is a right way and a wrong way: the right way—you’ll be mom of the year; wrong way—give your baby up for adoption and never try having children again.

So I met with my photographer and friend Evi T’Bolt to review the best way to photograph the way I’m supposed to be feeling about being pregnant. We stuck to five of the six common looks: The Fairy, Sweet and Virginal, Haunted, TMI Sexy, and Healthy Yoga Girl. There is also the classic Demi Moore naked profile pic but due to various constraints, we had to pass. Still, with the looks we did shoot I hope everyone can see just how beautiful and delicate pregnancy has made me.

Let’s begin with…

THE FAIRY

My primary inspiration for this look was this photo:

Isn’t she just lovely? Even the water sparkles at the sight of her. Photoshop can barely contain the glow she feels from holding her baby. That’s because pregnant women happily frolic through the fields when no one is looking until they take their maternity photos.

Posting tomorrow: Haunted. Stay tuned…

For more photos subscribe to my facebook page.

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The End Is Near

I’m at 38 weeks.  So as the big day nears, there is nothing more frightening than finding out about your friends who were due around the same time as you having their babies ahead of schedule. Now there is no one left but me. It’s like everyone’s got picked off like flies and right now I’m the last one standing. To demonstrate what I’ve been feeling for the last month or more, I created this quick and crudely drawn 23 second piece on the subject. Enjoy, and just in case…Happy Thanksgiving!

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Free and Milking

Some countries see the parenting style of the United States as one that creates spoiled children and postpartum ladies void of any womanliness. But if you take a closer look at what our baby-making markets provide, you’d see a whole different picture. We live in a consumer driven nation so it’s fair to assume that we are what we buy. Well we must be mothers that can do it all because we buy Simple Wishes Hands Free Breastpump Bras.

According to the very existence of this item, we are a nation of practical good-looking milking machines. Thanks to our country’s ingenuity, postpartum possibilities are endless. New mothers can still check their email.

Go to work.

Play with their kids.

Dress up and go out.

Relax whenever they need to.

No other product symbolizes just how strong women are in our great country. We were even a deciding voting block in this year’s election. Had the GOP paid more attention to who we are as Americans, they would have known that thanks to the  Simple Wishes Handsfree Breastpump Bra, women can vote now too.

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I’m Tired And My Socks Are Too Loose

My Baby Shower this last Saturday made me pregnant. Of course before, I was pregnant, but now I’m like pregnant pregnant. Like need a chair and gallons of water pregnant. I’m tired, my ankles are swollen, my stomach gets in the way of sitting down and I can barely reach the stick shift or brake release on my truck. I can’t even stop complaining! It’s making me crazy, but even with  threatening to punch myself, I still can’t keep my mouth from whining.

Before the Baby Shower I was feeling pretty good. A little sleepy but able to function 100%. I even prepared myself for my BS by staying up until 2am the night before so I could do it again for the party. Well it worked. I was able to stay up until 1:30am for my BS and got home with a backache and two stumps for legs. It didn’t register at the time, but I had spent the entire evening standing up. Why? Because I didn’t feel pregnant. Even when I got home and saw the state of my legs, I figured I’d just put on some sexy compression socks  and sleep off those Jabba the Hut bulges riding over my bloated feet. But no. The morning after was like that first hangover that takes more than a day to shake off. For the first time in my pregnancy it took two days for the swelling in my legs to subside and for me to recover from the pregnant woman’s equivalent of an all-nighter. It was time to admit it to myself: I’m pregnant.

Okay, so now what? Nothing. Sorry, but I just can’t write a thoughtful blog this week. Now that I’m pregnant I stopped working. Today’s my first day off and I just want to watch some bad romantic comedies, read A DANCE WITH DRAGONS because I can, and do some pre-natal yoga. I may even watch another episode of REVENGE on Netflix. Yes, I may be smart, but when I’m tired I enjoy the easy and dumb. And now that I am finally feeling pregnant, I just don’t care how lame I am. Go ahead, Me. Punch me and get it over with. I’m just too pregnant to care.

*Will be back next week rested and ready to mock. 

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