Would you like to get pregnant? – m4w – 44 (Seattle )

Here’s another frightening ad from the beloved CL:

I have very powerful sperm…whenever it gets close to an egg it seems to result in a pregnancy. My wife tends to give me oral as much as possible because she knows if I go for the vagina we are likely to have a new one on the way, lol.

So I was thinking this might be a real positive for a woman who is dying to get pregnant but is unable with her current partner. I know that fertility treatments can be prohibitively expensive. I am Caucasian, about 6′2 and healthy. No genetic diseases. College educated.

You will have to assume complete financial responsibility, as I already have a family I am responsible to raise. Please assure me with your first email that you understand this. And let’s try to make this happen tonight before you worry too much about it and chicken out again.

Pregnancy is the new black, apparently

Disclaimer: This is a social commentary piece complete with humor, sarcasm and personal opinion all fused into one. Please don’t send me a million comments about my insensitivity or my anti-pregnancy antics etc., as that may not actually be the case.

Serial Surrogates, Orgasmic Labor, Home Birth and Late-stage Breastfeeding…that’s the summary of last Friday’s 20/20 special on ABC. I was stuck on the couch with a head cold and since we only get what the bunny ears pick up, I found myself watching in horror as the 20/20 news anchors told the stories of a bunch of pregnant wackos women.

What initially grabbed my attention was the segment on orgasmic birth. Not because I’m interested in having one (I’m not interested in getting pregnant, period.), but because I’ve mentioned it on this blog before. When I first posted about orgasmic birth, as my blog simply states, I didn’t know how to react. And in watching the 20/20 coverage of the birthing technique, I still don’t.

Actually, that’s not true. I do know how to react to the idea of orgasming while popping one out, or at least how I did react to the idea upon second analysis: EWW! Birthing a child i.e. ripping apart reproductive organs while simultaneously bringing a human into the world, is not sexy. It’s not hot. It’s not erotic. It’s not something I want to associate with the sex I had to get to that point. The sex was hot. The sex was erotic. NOT the aftermath err afterbirth. Gross!

During the hour program I probably spent 20 minutes with my jaw dropped and 20 minutes with shutters of disgust running up and down my spine. As if the orgasmic birth ideas weren’t enough to turn me off ofthe program all together, they had to throw in a segment about breastfeeding.

I watched video of a 9-year-old girl sucking from her mother’s tit. I don’t care how much love is in the family, or how much the act is one of nurturing compassion. It’s disturbing. And I can’t help but think that late-stage brestfeeding will inevitably have repercussions on the child later in life. If breast milk is all you can provide your child then by all means,  go right ahead. But if you live in the developed world where resources are available, do you really think it’s necessary?

One last thought before I try to block out the program all together:

Why is 20/20 running an hour-long program about the joys of pregnancy?

Don’t they realize teen pregnancies are on the rise in the U.S. thanks to abstinency-only education programs failing to follow through on their missions? It’s not smart to promote pregnancy as this wonderful, light-hearted right people have. It’s not a right, it’s a luxury. It’s a huge deal to bring a person into the world. It’s not all orgasms and glow. It’s expensive, it uses resources and it’s a responsibility not to be taken lightly.

So 20/20, when are you going to do a show about contraception, responsible family planning and childless adulthood because that’s my demographic.

Does half a bottle of Jameson count as “light drinking”?

According to the BBC:

Women who drink a small amount of alcohol while pregnant do not increase their child’s risk of behavioural problems, a study has suggested.

The University College London team classed “light” drinking as up to two drinks a week throughout pregnancy.

What I want to know is…

Will the U.S. birth rate go up or down in response to the recession?

On the one hand, getting freaky is a nice distraction from the current state of the world. On the other hand, I can’t afford to go out, get smashed and hook up.

I wonder if the rest of the fertile world has the same questions and predicaments?

Pregnant and cute? Please check me out……… – m4w – 31 (Seattle Area)

Hi,

Thanks for checking out my post. I’m single, professional, attractive, std free and in shape – 5ft 9in tall and 175lbs. I live in North Seattle. I’m looking for a cute pregnant girl that wants to get together on a regular basis. Does not have to be just sexual. Dinner, movies, shopping, weekend get aways etc. I’m not a creep, just have always been attracted to pregnant women and all that comes with it. Let me know and I’ll send a pic if you’re interested. Thanks, and no games here.

Oh Craig’s list…

Seattle is single, childless, more educated and lacks young people

From Crosscut:

The magic number is 2.08. This is the average number of persons per Seattle household in 2006, according to the American Community Survey. This is amazing and extreme! Our closest rivals among big cities are Portland and San Francisco at 2.24, and the national average is 2.61. Why is it so low?

A related statistic is the share of households that are families with children; the Seattle share is 19 percent, San Francisco 18 (lowest in the country), and Portland 24. (The U.S. average is 31 percent share of families with children.) Conversely, the share of non-family households (singles, unmarried partners) is 55 percent (33 for the U.S.). Seattle is only slightly behind the winner, San Francisco, in the share of adults never married (51 percent to 52 percent, 30 for the U.S.). Lastly, the proportion of the population under 15 is 13 percent in Seattle and San Francisco, 18 percent in Portland, and 20 percent nationally. Continue reading article here.

Yay for childless women!

This just in from the NYT:

Women are waiting longer to have children, and more women than ever are choosing not to have children at all, according to a new Census Bureau report.

Twenty percent of women ages 40 to 44 have no children, double the level of 30 years ago, the report said; and women in that age bracket who do have children have fewer than ever – an average of 1.9 children, compared with the median of 3.1 children in 1976.

orgasmic birth

I don’t even know how to react to this.

Obese pregnant moms = obese kids

From SLOG:

But the results of several studies suggest that the very fact of a woman being obese during pregnancy may predispose her children to obesity. For example, one study found that children born to women who have lost weight after radical anti-obesity surgery are less likely to be obese than siblings born before their mother lost weight. Another study looked at women who gained weight between pregnancies; the results showed that babies born after their mothers put on weight tended to be heavier at birth than siblings born beforehand. Since the mother’s genes haven’t changed, the “fat” environment seems likely to be responsible for the effect.

…

If this is right, it raises the alarming possibility that the obesity epidemic has a built-in snowball effect. If children born to obese mothers are, owing to the environment in the womb, predisposed to obesity, they may find staying thin especially hard. Reversing the epidemic may thus rest on helping women to lose weight before they conceive and helping them to eat a balanced, non-junk-food diet while they are pregnant. The well-being of the next generation may depend on it.

Studies Show Kids May Not Be ‘Bundles of Joy’

This just in from The Bryant Park Project:

The cliché refers to newborn children as “bundles of joy,” but recent research indicates that bundles of anxiety, or even bundles of depression, might be more accurate.

Sociologists are discovering that children may not make parents happier and that childless adults, contrary to popular stereotypes, may often be more contented than people with kids.

Read the rest of the article here.

Comedy mimics reality, right?

I have a little confession to make–I was never really pregnant. I didn’t just give birth. The whole thing was a hoax. The Get Loweded writers decided to develop Prize Girl Brandi’s character a little. Being the slightly disturbed gentlemen they are, they came up with the pregnancy theme–get prego, get drunk! Being the slightly disturbed woman I am, I decided a fake pregnancy would be a fabulous opportunity to experience what it’s like to be with-child, play with the status quo and push peoples’ boundaries.

I don’t want children, but if I change my mind, there’s no way in hell I’m getting pregnant. Adoption is the way to go; besides helping out a kid, there’s no stretch marks, odd cravings, discomfort, gas, heartburn, bad clothes or vaginal tearing. That last one is big for me. I like my vag, I don’t want to hurt it or risk it not working properly! I don’t hide the fact that I don’t want kids, but for some reason people always try to change my mind. I’ve heard it all from women, “something changes when you hit 30, you’ll see”, “your maternal instincts will kick in, you’ll see”, “I loved being pregnant, you will too”, “I want to be pregnant all the time, it feels so good” and on and on and on.

Pictures from the birth

It all happend from my house to the Re-bar last night

I’m standing on the corner, waiting to cross the street: A guy pulls up, leans over and says through the open passenger window, “Bless yer heart,” smiles, winks and then drives away.

I cross the street and head to the bus stop: There’s a man standing there also waiting for the bus. After a couple minutes he asks, “When are you due?” I smile, “Any time now,” and rub my belly. He banters about how all his friends–regardless of age, 20 to 37–are having babies, “Must be the time,” and on and on about his big family and having to hold babies when he was ten. The bus pulls up, he motions me to get on the bus before him, I take a seat, he wishes me luck and he’s gone.

I get to the next bus stop and have about 10 minutes to wait: There are a few people waiting for the bus, one guy smiles at me, I notice his wedding ring. Two old people are walking little rat-dogs along Denny Way. The woman, who looks 15 years older than she actually is, stares at my belly, stops, rubs her own belly and says, “Wrong time. Wrong time. I’ve had four,” while shaking her finger at me and then just walks away. Wedding ring guy and I look at each other confused and agree that was about the weirdest thing that could have possibly come out of her mouth at that moment in time.

I get on the bus. I make it to the bar. I light a cigarette.

OOhhhhh gawwwwddd!!!

It happened. I gave birth last night, it was horrible! My water broke on stage, there’s blood on my shoe and my dress is ruined.

I already resent the monster. This is a bad start to a long, long relationship.

Angelina stole my look. Bitch.

Choose your time wisely little monster, or else!

I went to the coochie doctor today and he said I could pop at any time!!!!! GET LOWEDED is Monday, so it better happen in like ten minutes or not until after the show. I’m not missing the “Get Loweded Thanks the Bar Industry” show for anything!

Oh gawd, I just thought of something…

What if it happened AT THE SHOW?!?!?!?!? That would be SOOOOOOOOO embarrassing! Ah, I’d die! What if my water broke when I was bringing someone a prize, or when I was passing out free shots. And then there’s the mucous plug. OH MY GAWWWWWD. I can’t even think about it! I’m crossing everything-fingers, toes, arms, legs, eyes-that that doesn’t happen.

Damn monster. If it decided to come during the show, I’m kickin’ it to the curb.

Not your average shower

To all of you who came to the Monster Mash, THANKS! It was a blast!

Friday was full of free drinks, pictures with friends and strangers, phone numbers, kisses on the belly, punches to the belly (ouch fucker!), accusations, glares, stares, laughs, cigarettes and a whole lot more that’s too graphic to speak of.

Couldn’t have asked for more.
xxoxox!

Baby shower, shmaby shower

Let’s call it what it really is…a MONSTER MASH!!! Or Monster Smashed, depending on how you look at it. Either way, it’s this Friday!

My friends decided to celebrate the fact that I got knocked up! Join us in the fun, but only if you a) bring a present for the soon-to-arrive devil, b) bring me a present because I’m the one who’s lived in hell the past 8.5 months, or c) buy me (and the little one) a drink!

We’ll be in Ballard and I shouldn’t be hard to miss, what with the belly stickin’ out n’ all.

WTF

Some guy told me he didn’t know if he’d find me as attractive once the monster is born. Was that a compliment?An insult? What the fuck was that?

Big belly, big hangover

Well, I didn’t go into premature labor at this month’s GET LOWEDED like I’d hoped. Although, by the end of the night I felt like my stomach was about to burst open…I think it was due to all the whiskey shots. The monster, like me, apparently enjoys sipping straight liquor rather than throwing it down the hatch quick-n-dirty style.

It took me two days to recover from Monday night’s debauchery. I don’t get it, I mean, I did all the right things. I drank straight liquor so as not to have a sugar hangover, smoked filtered cigarettes instead of my usual rollies, got home and ate a quesadilla, drank a big cup of water, swallowed some IBUs and passed the fuck out. So why did I not feel normal until today? Wait…I know. It’s not just me recovering from an excessive night of partying, it’s me and the monster. Two drunks, one body. I keep forgetting that.

Partying at eight months pregnant is tough. When the bar is packed, it’s so hard moving through the crowd. What I’ve found works best is yelling “WATCH OUT, PREGNANT GIRL COMING THROUGH.” People stop dead in their tracks, look at me, sort of half-smile and then step back to let me pass. I suggest trying it sometime, it’s not uncomfortable at all.

I’ve got one more month of this inconvenience. I’ll spare you the details of the weird things my body is doing at present to accommodate the bastard, I mean monster. Yes, I know who the father is. At least I think I do. I haven’t talked to him much since, well, you know…

I’ve been giving some thought to water births and if I go that route, I want to do it outside somewhere. Do you think it’s safe to do it in a hot tub? I was envisioning me, my midwife, a couple bottles of champange and some bad rap music playing on my ghetto blaster. You know when you drink in a hot tub how it makes you super drunk, super quick? Perfect, right? And Easy E in the background will remind me of the life I can get back to.

I can’t wait! No more scarlet letter, dirty looks, brash comments, points, stares or ass slaps. Wait, I like ass slaps–I think that’s what got me here in the first place–hope those don’t stop.

Potential midwife?

more pics of the Get Loweded family:

http://www.usnaps.com/

special code: rebar

The one thing I want to come early

I’m getting so excited for GET LOWEDED this month! I’ve heard that if you get too excited or too worked up, you can go into premature labor. I’m keeping my fingers crossed!

http://myspace.com/getloweded

One month to go, don’t be a ho!

My ribs huuuuuurt! I swear the monster, that’s what I’m calling it now, is taking a kick-boxing class inside my uterus. More technically speaking, I found out that, “Your uterus — which was entirely tucked away inside your pelvis when you conceived — now reaches up under your rib cage. If you could peek inside your womb, you’d see that there’s more baby than amniotic fluid in there now. Your ballooning uterus is crowding your other internal organs, too, which is why you probably have to urinate more often and may be dealing with heartburn and other gastrointestinal distress.”

I hate this process. Anyone who says they looooovvveee being pregnant is a damned liar. On the increased urination front, I had to use the El Corazon bathroom more times than I could count Saturday night. It was totally disturbing. There’s no squatting above the nasty toilet when you’re eight months prego, gravity just doesn’t work that way. Basically, I got drunk enough to forget what was crawling around on the dreaded seat.

I thought when you’re pregnant, people shower you with gifts, run out at any given moment to get you food from WHEREVER you want and give you foot rubs all day. Not the case at all. Not once has anyone offered to go get me Ezell’s fried chicken or a pineapple shake from Gordo’s. Not a single person has touched my feet, although, I don’t blame them–they probably look like hell since I haven’t even been able to see them for months. And most irritating of all, NO GIFTS. WTF!?! Everyone likes buying things. It’s America, that’s what we do. So, buy me things. This monster’s gonna need clothes/shoes(I wear Vans size 7 if you want to get me a matching pair)/food/toys and a whole lot more. I’m registered at Babies”R”us, Target, Fred Meyer, Wal-Mart, Super KMart, ShopKo, Costco and Sam’s Club. Buy in bulk, I’m gonna need it!

I’ve got to pee, but one more thing before I forget, which is another side effect, you literally lose your ability to retain information. Anyways, I just got the best news today. I can still have sex! I thought it was dangerous to do it in the third trimester, but according to Google it’s just fine! And according to the Google Image search, the positions look pretty fun too!

So, I’ll leave it at that for today. My ribs hurt, I have to pee all the time, I’ve got heartburn and gastrointestinal distress, no one is pampering me, but I can still have sex. Think I’ll be able to pick someone up, say, at the next Get Loweded?

The baby’s first picture

Does this look odd to anyone else??? Do you think I should be concerned?

pc

Pictures from the March Get Loweded!

Take a look at the madness!

Photos by Heather Christianson

Wow, what happened last night?

My gawd, drinking and smoking for two does not make for an easy next day at work. I probably shouldn’t have gotten that bloody mary at last call, but the way I see it, vegetables are good for the baby.

Have I told you how awkward it is to sleep at seven months pregnant? Sleeping on my stomach is impossible. Sleeping on my side is great…until the baby starts kicking me in the kidney which means I have to use all my sleepy force to roll onto my other side. It’s a nightmare!

I got home after 2 a.m., climbed in bed around 3 a.m. and heard the alarm go off at 7 a.m. Way too many a.m.’s in one sentence.

And then there’s the hunger. I wake up and the “I’m hungover and everything under the sun sounds good–salty, sweet, spicy, hot, cold–I want it all!” mentality kicks in and what can I do but partake? I mean, I’ve got a baby to think about and I’m sure it’s feeling the same way I do, like shit. If I don’t eat a literal ton of food this instant, I might DIE.

Are a double americano and a handful of IBUs bad for the baby? I’ve got the shakes, this isn’t good.

The show is coming up, what am I going to do?

Monday is the next Get Loweded. St. Patrick’s Day and Get Loweded on the same day. I predict a bunch of drunk American mutts hoping for a little luck-of-the-Irish to take over and get them all laid. Hope they’ve got rubbers because let me tell ya, it’s no fun getting knocked up. Well, it’s fun in the process and then annoying in the aftermath.

I’m seven or eight months along now and I’m having a hell of a time finding a dress for Monday’s show. I mean, I’ve got to look hot up on that Get Loweded stage. How else am I going to get a date when I’ve got a huge heap of responsibility leading my every move? You wouldn’t believe how difficult it is to find a dress that’s tight, sexy, sequined and big enough to accommodate the belly. I don’t want to resort to the mu-mu. I won’t do it!

And the hostility…The looks. The whispers. Just buy me a drink already! I’m the one who can’t tie my own shoes, has an embarrassingly huge grocery bill and a weird looking belly button now that the piercing has stretched out.

This is so not going to help me meet a hunk at Golden Gardens this summer…Dammit!

The first time out

Don’t get pregnant and hang out in bars:You’re likely to buy a drink and get dirty looks.

I started showing a month ago and it’s weird how people act around a prego belly. We’ve all heard it before, but seriously, just because there’s a monster growing in my uterus doesn’t give you a free pass to touch me. It’s my stomach, not yours. Do I need to start wearing a “This is a hands-free zone” t-shirt when I leave the house?

Let me back up a bit.

This little adventure began in August at Get Loweded’s inaugural show. I’m the prize girl for the “game show for professional drinkers,” and it’s a pretty fun and easy gig–wear a sparkling dress circa 1989, have a few drinks, pass out prizes as needed. One of the features of the show is The Hookup where two audience members are selected to sit in a romantic booth, watch the show and then decide if they’re going to go their separate ways or Hook up! Makes sense, right? Because drinking and hooking up pretty much go hand in hand. Anyway, I wasn’t in The Hookup in August, but that didn’t stop me from, well, hooking up and now six months later my belly is growing to huge proportions and my bad prom dresses aren’t fitting like they should.

And if feeling like a fat ass weren’t bad enough, people keep giving me dirty looks! Yeah I’m pregnant. Yeah I’m havin’ a drink. Deal with it. It happens in Europe and seems to me they have their shit pretty well figured out. They smoke and drink all the time and their life expectancy rates are higher than ours.

Which brings me to a funny story.

Monday night I’m waiting for Get Loweded to start and I’m standing outside the Re-bar smoking. It’s early, no one’s at the bar yet, I’m standing on the sidewalk all alone in a black, form-fitting sequined dress. Before long, a little red car drives by and the woman driving literally slow to a tortoise’s pace and stares me down, head turning fully around as she passes me. My first reaction was to flip her off, “Why the hell are you looking at me!?!” and then I remembered the baby bump.

A while later, after the band started playing, I got my drink and noticed people looking at me. Not nicely looking at me, more puzzled and disapproving looking at me. WTF? Oh yeah, I’ve got a six month growth on my stomach guiding me through the bar. People really don’t like to see pregnant chicks drinking.