My Nails and I Are Offended.

Does knowing oneself take the fun out of exploring?

If you want to feel like a specimen under a magnifying glass walk into the free weights section of the local commercial gym at 7 months pregnant. You’ll get no shortage of stares, glares, and other unsolicited glances you’d prefer not to endure.

It occurred to me this morning that I don’t even know how I take my coffee anymore and maybe that has to do with drinking it sub-parly for the past year, but on a more visceral note, not knowing how I take my coffee means things are a ch-ch-changing.

My kid has been doing dance performances in my womb since around 5am and I’m waiting to see a foot pop through my belly button. Mom came over a few days ago to paint a few days ago and I couldn’t believe how fucking excited I was to do manual labor all day because it’s therapeutic and makes me feel like I’m in my own body, which has been kinda inconsistent the past few months. For a few days after that though, I felt like an actual corpse of myself. Walking through the aisles of Home Depot in another dimension and smiling blankly at appliances and door knobs.

I finally got my nails done yesterday and the technician told me that they’re paper thin. I immediately became offended for no reason and decided in that moment I wouldn’t be going back to him; I scheduled a pedicure at 10:15am with him the next morning.