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Broke
Wife, Big City
I'm
pretty sure it's a demon wizard
By Aprill Brandon
You
guys may remember when I wrote a few weeks
ago about how I quit smoking. If you don't remember, let me quickly sum
it up
for you:
I
quit smoking. People got hurt. Property got
destroyed. At one point, the National Guard was called in to shoot me
down off
of a skyscraper. The end.
And
I am happy to report that not only am I
still 100 percent cigarette-free today, but the casualities list has
significantly shortened thanks to my nicotine cravings finally dying
down. In
fact, my husband hasn't had a frying pan or the complete works of
Shakespeare
hurled at him in eight days, a personal best since I started this
journey.
And
that's not all that is new. I've actually
been on a bit of a health kick lately. For instance, I hardly drink
soda
anymore. My coffee consumption, which was dangerously close to reaching
"unemployed writer hanging out at Starbucks" proportions, has been
reduced by 90 percent. I no longer eat hot dogs or other meats that I
can't
readily identify what animal it came from. Believe it or not, I also
haven't
had a drop of alcohol in months (which, alas, also resulted in some
casualties...but don't worry, the vet said our dog only suffered
psychological
trauma and physically is fine). And I'm trying to eat at least one
vegetable a
day as opposed to my usual one vegetable a month when my husband tries
to sneak
mushrooms into his homemade calzones (oh yeah, I can taste them, babe,
and they
taste mushy and disgusting).
And
let me tell you, after all that, I have
never felt worse. Oh yeah, you read that right. All that crap about how
important it is to be healthy? Highly overrated. Those granola-eating
hippies
are all liars. Because for 20 years my body ran just fine on all those
toxic
ingredients. In fact, it thrived on booze and non-organic pizza rolls.
And then
I took all that stuff away and suddenly I'm curled up in the fetal
position at
the base of the toilet for months.
Then
again, it could be because I'm pregnant.
(Ha! See what I did there? Buried the lede for purely comical effect!
Cruel
writer shenanigans!).
Yes,
dear readers, yours truly is with child.
Preggo. Knocked up. In the family way. Bun in the oven. Uterus status:
Occupied.
Or
at least, I'm pretty sure I am. I have to be
honest, it feels more like a very small demon wizard has taken over my
body.
But my doctor keeps reassuring me that this is highly unlikely despite
the fact
this pregnancy feels more like the movie "The Exorcist" than any kind
of blessed event. Seriously, if you could see the things coming out of
my body,
you'd be wondering too. Not to mention, the violent mood swings (the
weather
makes me angry, that Snickers commercial makes me laugh like a mad
woman,
paprika makes me cry), the vivid dreams where I keep getting lectured
by Bill
Cosby, my sudden intense cravings for red meat that are so strong I've
seriously contemplated taking a bite out of a live cow; all signs that
point to
demon wizard in my hormone-drenched brain.
That
said, however, even if I do end up giving
birth to a demon wizard (I'm still 70 percent sure I might), I couldn't
be
happier. And that demon wizard will be loved unconditionally and
dressed up as
an adorable tiny bear next Halloween.
Which
is why as I'm limping my way across the
first trimester finish line, I wanted to share the news with all of
you. Even
those of you out there who truly hate it when women document their
pregnancy
journey in a public forum.
Because
you know I'm gonna. The fun is just
beginning, friends.
Can’t
get enough of Aprill? Can’t wait until
next week?
Check
out her website at http://aprillbrandon.com/
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