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The sweaty panda told me to do it…

December 27th, 2007 · No Comments

“Great. Someone has written another blog about what they did at Christmas.” Yeah I know, but maybe this one is different to the others? Or…well, you are here so why not read it. It might amuse you. It might even just keep you from googling your own name in boredom or something? (as a side note, I never google my own name as the result often comes up as a gay MP or a news paper journalist and not much else)

Ever tried to buy a present for a pregnant woman?

You cant. You just cant. It is almost impossible, as I found out after reading pregnancy magazines that my wife has bought.
Don’t have dairy. Nuts. Don’t bathe in this or that. Stay away from cats, birds, Albanian crossdressers. Don’t drink.

Depending on the trimester, eat this meat or this meat but not this one. Don’t wear this or this (not that it matters as anything you buy wont fit in the month that follows!).

In some parts of the world, a pregnant woman shouldn’t actually breathe! You should also not change your diet too much.

So. Don’t change your diet, but actually don’t eat or drink anything! How did mankind last until now I have no idea!!

I am sure there are plenty of things you can buy a pregnant woman. Unfortunately I am as imaginative as a depressed lonely piece of roadkill.

Therefore, Christmas was a present related non-event while being most eventful. I bought a turkey that was designed (and by designed, I mean fed more hormones and steroids then is probably safe for an incredibly large horse with an almost unhealthy appetite for said steroids and hormones) to feed about 80 people. There were 5 of us for Christmas Day. There always was going to be 5. I just happen to like cold turkey. Although since finding my wife was pregnant, I have seen her going through cold turkey of a different sort and am glad my cold turkey is fun and enjoyable!

The up side of this is that I have a LOT of turkey to eat. The downside is that I will be somewhat resembling a Russian female shotputter by the time I have consumed it all due to the steroids. I already need to shave a few times a week…now i’ll be ZZ Top in the space of 2 days and have a pair of breasts like no man should have. It is gonna be an interesting new year! I could be a circus sideshow. The bearded lady!

But going back to the pregnancy magazines. There is some quite awesome artistic licence going on. I understand that they need to fill a magazine every month, but really. Read one and then read the next months. Everything they told you would happen and you should do is then the following month taken back and now it is healthy to drink a bottle of whisky a night. I believe that last line was directed to me and not to the expectant mother. Or maybe I dreamt it and am living my dream? I dunno.

My wife is also one of those “I have to buy this magazine as there is free stuff in it!” women. I believe every woman is the same on this one though. But this month, the most useful baby magazine has a different kind of free gift. Mascara. Yup. Put it on, go in to labour, scream, shout, sweat and then finally cry. Mothers…that first photo of you and your child will have that squishy messy wet thing sitting in the arms of a sweaty panda. How can this not work!!

So anyway. It is almost 4am (I am working nights…not that hard as you can see!) and I am going to have some more coffee as nighttime TV is shockingly bad.

I hope you are all sleeping well, and I didn’t bore you too much. Nighty night.

© 2007, Sy. All rights reserved.


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