i’ll crawl into your autumn mouth.

The attention, it’s getting to me. Everywhere I go, eyes. Smiles. Sighs. Talking to people, mostly women, about natural births, epidurals, emotions, cravings, whatever… I have never been a social girl. I have never been one to squeal with other girls about how cute this is or that is and ohmygod let’s compare ourselves. It makes me uncomfortable to have all of this attention. I walk into my work and all the girls smile and gather around, glossyeyed, “Oh Cass is so cute” and so on. Touching my belly. Talking about how thin my arms and legs still are, how great I look at six months… I admit, it boosts the esteem, but is it necessary everytime? I feel like a specimen, wings pinned, magnified for the world to see. YES HELLO I AM WITH CHILD. Stare stare stare. I got it enough when I wasn’t pregnant and now it’s amplified. I don’t know what it is about me and my appearance or presence, but it just distracts people. Meanwhile, I’m critiscizing my jiggling thighs and the fact my jawbone isn’t as boney as it was two months ago. Beware the female ego.

My mom airbrushed my face today. Luminess Air makeup. What a bizarre experience. I still feel sticky. I couldn’t stop laughing and she’s huffing at me about fine lines and dark spots. But boy, does my skin look even! Geeeee. No, she means well. She supposedly bought it to do my “wedding face.” And with all this stress for finals mixed with a deadly cocktail of hormones kicking up my sebum production, I’m breaking out and in need of help. Curse you perfect skinned people.

I’m going to go order the cupcakes today. Chocolate and buttercream marblecake with sunflower frosting flowers on top. Tre’ cheese. There is still so much to do, but now school is over with. Took my last final today and forgot the combined form for “a new opening from the stomach to the outside of the body.” Which is an easy one, gastrostomy. But I couldn’t remember it for the life of me and wrote down something stupid. Whatever. I’m done with finals, with my first quarter and with waking up at 5 in the morning, for this month atleast. I have no idea how next quarter will work out. If I go a week early, which Sara at work believes I will (“All women in Colorado go early”), then I will miss my finals. Finals week IS my duedate week. It will be a madhouse.

–Aside from this, two days and a new place! Hurrah!