Spoil Sport

The Conversation in the Car While Spouse Drove Me to the Subway Station this Morning:

Spouse: How are you going to avoid finding out who won the women's figure skating competition today?

Me: I'm not going to check any news sites today. Or even go on FB. It's a total shutdown of information until I watch the Tivo tonight.

Spouse: Why didn't you just watch it this morning?

Me: I thought you'd want to watch it with me.

Spouse: Nah, boring. I don't care.

Me: That's cuz you accidentally already found out who won.

Spouse: No, I really don't care. I only want to watch short-track.

Me: Short-track is crazy cuz the Koreans are on fire. But too bad the women's relay team got robbed of that gold medal!

Spouse: Well, Koreans don't feel too bad now because...

Me: Because...

Spouse: *Silence*

Me: BECAUSE KIM YU-NA WON GOLD?!?!?! Thanks a lot spoiler!

How to Smuggle a Watermelon in Your Shirt

So the belly has finally grown to a point where I'm starting to actually look pregnant (instead of just dumpy).

But what a difference the right, strategically cut, clothing makes! In this outfit here (which I wore to work today) I look exactly the same as when I wasn't pregnant!


But in this outfit, clearly, the jig is up.


Time to diligently rub that stretch cream on daily. Does anyone recommend any good creams? I've been using Mustela cuz I love the smell and someone highly recommended it to me, but it's kind of pricey. I tried Palmer's Cocoa Butter, but it smells too awful.

In other news, I've met the first of several babies recently born to my childhood friends. Here's me and little Isaac, just 2 weeks old, developmentally speaking (he's been out of the womb for at least 7 weeks).


My goal is to knit a special little item for each of my friend's babies. Here's Isaac's little cardigan cuz his mom said she likes the color green.


I don't think there's anything closer to heaven on earth than holding a newborn baby. Even when he was grunting strenuously as he pooped in my arms. So sweet. So stinky, yet so sweet.

My Team, My Self

Whenever the spouse meets an Asian American, he likes to use this litmus test for national identity to find out if the AA considers himself or herself more Asian or more American--Which team do you cheer for in the Olympics?

For me, I find myself innately cheering for team USA, and then, if there are no US athletes, team China.

For the spouse, it's team Korea all the way. US can take silver.

It's natural for the Olympics to be a proxy for national pride--countries battle it out to be the best in somewhat healthy (at least nonviolent) competition.

Which makes it all the wierder when athletes compete for countries they do not call home. I just read about the Reed Family, which has 3 Winter Olympic siblings. Although they grew up in the US and live in New Jersey, 2 kids ice-dance for Japan and 1 for the Republic of Georgia!

The Japanese connection is not so far-fetched as the mom is Japanese. But Georgia? What the...?


Allison Reed started training with her Georgian partner last May and now holds dual citizenship with the foreign country, to which she has no other ties.

Doesn't that defeat the whole point of the Olympics? I realize that athletes just want to compete at the highest level they can, but so much for representing your country!

No Substitute

You may have seen in the news how Ellen DeGeneres is the new queen of talk.

Ever since Oprah has announced that her talkshow days are numbered, reports have been made public that Ellen's ratings are just as good as Oprah's. Ellen is destined to ascend the throne.

But I object. Ellen is nothing like Oprah and her show is nothing like Oprah's show. She'll never be a substitute because they are apples and oranges.

Ellen is upbeat, goofy, silly. Oprah can be fun, but she also has gravitas. Heck, Oprah has indepth interviews with child molesters and asks them to describe what they've done in graphic detail. Ellen couldn't touch that.

There's still going to be a huge gaping hole in the talk show world when Oprah leaves.

Buttonless Zip and Doctorless Gig

Today is the first day I can't button my pants.

I went to work with a tunic-length shirt on and my casual Friday jeans mostly zipped up. I guess I feel proud?

I'm a little peeved that my doctor cancelled our once-a-month appointment. Her next available appt is 2 weeks later. That's an eon in nervous-pregnant-woman years. I can't wait 2 weeks to find out whether the fetus is still alive and kicking!

So I did what I had done last time when the doctor was too busy--I scheduled an appt with her nurse. I've never met my doctor and I'm beginning to wonder if I ever will.

Really, who cares if I never meet the doctor. I hear that the person who delivers your baby is usually not your doctor anyway since your delivery date is so uncertain. Did you know that only 5% of babies are born on their actual delivery date?

I just think doctors are so unecessary in the medical profession in general. We probably only need 1 doctor for every 9 nurses. Everytime I've gone to the "doctor's" since the age of 12, I've never seen a doctor--only nurses. And if you do see a doctor, I'm sure it's only for 5 minutes while the nurse preps you, and posts you, or whatever.

My doctor will probably never see me and won't deliver my baby, but will probably pocket a significant chunk of the payment for services. What a gig!

Mother Nature is a B*tch

I’ve never begrudged men anything.

I never felt like there was a war of the sexes. I’m more a lover, so to speak, not a fighter.

But that’s before I got pregnant.

If anything can turn a sanguine attitude about gender equality into bitter, bitter gall, it’s got to be pregnancy. I mean, the differing roles between men and women in the pregnancy and post-partum process is just staggering! Because, frankly, we have ALL the equipment!

We feel nauseous, sore and tired for 3 months (sometimes longer, as I’m finding out). We get examined, poked and prodded, down there. We balloon into an unrecognizable and uncomfortable orb for months (and endure the associated swelling, soreness and aches and pains). We give up all our favorite foods and eat like monks. We end up with scars and stretch marks and an explosion of acne. And here’s the kicker—-we go through the worst pain ever known to mankind! A pain so horrifying and traumatizing it cannot be described. Yes, a pain so epic in proportion, the Bible uses it to analogize Christ’s sufferings on the cross.

Freaking fantastic.

And what does a guy endure? Uh, his “contribution,” if we may even call it that, is something, I think we’d all agree, most guys would consider very very pleasant.

Let’s face it. There’s no such thing as gender equality. As long as women are the only ones with the "milk and eggs," there will be no equity.

But wait, some women might say. You’ve got it all backwards. It’s women who lucked out in this lopsided game called biology. We get to experience the birthing process. We get to bond in a special way with the fetus. We get to share in a sacred act that men will never understand.

Um, sure, whatever. All I know is that if there were a magic button that I could press that would immediately distribute my pain and discomfort equally (and yes, all that good bonding crap too) between my spouse and I, I would not hesitate to push it! And especially not during labor!

That would be way better than an epidural.