Too Many Feet...

{parental warning: there are some very very bad words in this post. If you are not accustomed to my propensity for profanity, you may want to skip it. Or at least sit down with a nice cup of tea and your church pastor on speed dial}

Too many feet and hands and heads and butts....

H and I trekked to the end of the block last night and had a level II U/S last night. Everything looked good. We saw 8 chambers in 2 hearts, 6 vessels in 2 umbilical cords, 4 little bean shaped kidneys, 2 little round stomachs, 2 bladders filing and emptying, 20 fingers and 20 toes. But definitely ZERO penises (penii? what's the plural here?)

In essence, everything looked great. It took forever since they decided to wiggle all over the place and wriggle themselves on top of each other. They are basically laying in a big #7 with everyone's feet over on my right side. This might explain the excruciating back pain that's wrapping around that side. On the other hand, that could be from my cantaloupe sized boobs. You think I'm exaggerating? We're on our way to honeydew... I'm sure we'll surpass watermelon by August.

That sounds like a blast right? I mean, every freakin' pregnancy book, magazine, website etc. are all extolling the virtues of bigger boobs. Fuck you people. really. Fuck all you all skinny little boobed people. go to hell. i hate you. and your little boobs. Sorry to anyone's mom who may now be having a seizure due to my lack of restraint on dropping F-bombs, but I'm serious here. This is some seriously painful shit. I know they don't have to be this big.

I am currently awaiting my delivery from Lane Bryant. Mille grazie to F.fanny in advance for her tip that they have a maternity section where us plus-sized pariahs can go to find enough stretchy cloth to cover our monstrous mammaries. They tell me the wonder slings should arrive on Monday so perhaps by Tuesday I will be floating on a cloud of supportive wire-free bliss. I'm not getting my hopes up too high.

I know you all think I am exaggerating just a tad. Not that I have ever been known to hyperbolize for entertainment or levity.... But I actually had to spend Wednesday in bed. In. The. Bed. I could not go to work and sit in my desk chair. As a matter of fact, I had a hard time sitting on my own toilet. It was absurd. And it brings me to my next rant:

Why when I call in sick does it have to involve a separate phone calls to everyone I work with. What the hell? Don't these people work together. I mean, for chrissake, you all have offices within shouting distance. Someone yell out "Jeanne's not coming, her boobs are too big to allow her to stand upright!" So I called the secretary and the other counselor and got a gripey message from the doc saying that if I was going to call out, could I please call him at home. it's only fair that he, as the director of the program, should know who's going to be in and out.

{get ready, here's the last bomb of the day, I promise}

SHOVE IT UP YOUR ASS. ALL THE WAY. WHEN YOU THINK YOU ARE DONE, YOU AREN'T. JUST KEEP ON SHOVIN'!

really, don't these people know not to taunt a pregnant lady? Especially one who likes movies where people pummel each other to death and is prone to day-dreams involving torture. You're signing your own painful death warrant.

Now isn't everyone glad the twins are girls? Could you just imagine boys with H's size, my freakish muscle structure and that temperament? Yeah, I know, it would totally rock!

p.s. H thinks they look "sweet" on the ultrasound. I think this is wishful thinking :)