June 9th, 1999

Although the time of never-ending nausea is over, I am still subject to what I call "stealth vomits." These are vomits that seem to happen for no reason at all and with no warning. This morning, one of the stealth vomits overtook me just as I was about to leave for work. I didn't even make it to the bathroom in time. It got my clothes, the floor, the kitchen counters and cabinets. Big yuck. After my clean-up job, I barely made it to work on time.

Now I have to wonder what possible evolutionary purpose these stealth vomits serve. I mean, I'm pregnant. If there is any time that it is important to eat and get all those nutrients, it is now. I'm hungry all the time, eating many small meals a day. So why is my body making me lose whole meals? My personal theory is that it is to prepare me for cleaning up yucky messes when I finally have the child. If anyone can think of a better reason, tell me.

Clarion Roadtrip

Eek! It is only two days until I leave for Clarion. My itinerary is already planned. I will leave from Minneapolis on Friday morning, stop off in Madison for dinner with my old college friend Inna, and then head on to Chicago to stay overnight with my friend Trey and his family. Then on Saturday, I pick up a Clarion student from Illinois and drive the rest of the way.

So am I ready to go? Not yet. Tomorrow is my last day of work, and I'm hardly packed. I've been too busy saying goodbye to everyone... My husband has been finding my imminent departure especially hard. Sometimes six weeks seems like it will be very short, and sometimes it seems like it will be forever. I know that I'm going to miss Andy terribly. It's not fair that he miss so much of my pregnancy. I know that we'll be e-mailing each other a lot, but it's not the same.

More Vanity

Today I went off to my regular waxing session, where I voluntarily allow someone to rip my body hair out by the roots. I still cannot believe I do this, since I do not fall prey to most of the other ways women in our culture torture themselves for the sake of beauty. I don't wear make-up, I don't color or perm my hair, and I don't ever wear high heels. I certainly don't have an eating disorder or an obsession with being thin; I like my curves where they are, thank you.

So why do I wax? Well, for a long time I didn't. The unshaven look is one of the few feminist statements that you can make simply by being lazy. I have to admit, though, that I much prefer the smooth look. Alas, it is not one that comes naturally to me. When I was a young neurotic preteen, other children taunted me with the nickname "sasquatch." One wit even wondered if I was the missing link between Homo sapiens and their primate cousins. I wax because if I didn't, I'd be shaving every day.

Does it hurt? I'd be lying if I said it didn't. But my aesthetician, Heather, is skilled and quick which makes things easier (though she did joke in our first session, "This is what I do for a living. I give people pain, and I don't even wear black leather to do it.") Trust me, this is one thing that you don't want to do for half-price in a beauty school where you would be a guinea pig for cosmetology students. I keep thinking that I should write a fantasy story where an aesthetician from the twentieth century becomes a medieval torturer. I can even see the villain giving the order, "Wax them, Heather, give them the slow waxing..."

Okay, so I'm in a weird mood.

Hmm