Tis’ the season to be jolly. Tis’ the season to be social. Tis the season to get out and about and enjoy the company of friends and colleagues over some nice wine, too much food and even a bit of a stomp on the dance floor.
All sounds amazing. And it IS amazing.
Unless you’re pregnant.
If you’re pregnant, it sucks. So, I’m going to say it…. I feel left out of my life. I feel like a leper who has suddenly left the cool group and is sitting on the sidelines, looking in enviously at all those festive people with a glass of chilled Sav Blanc in their hands. Wankers.
I love Christmas. I love being social. I love everything about this season in general. Those that know me know I’m also quite partial to a nice wine and a piece of soft cheese. This is the first festive season where I haven’t been able to partake in the simple pleasures I used to enjoy. And to be honest, I’m not very good at missing out.
I’m not saying you nee to drink to have a good time. Some of the best company I keep are non-drinkers. But when you take away my ability to join in a simple thing like a wine with colleagues, add a few extra kilos to my arse and finish off with a constant feeling of general discomfort, I spend the night feeling pretty sorry for myself.
I think on the outside I’ve done pretty well. I’ve gotten involved and headed out until way past my bedtime on a number of occasions and tried to do it all with a smile on my face. On the inside, I’m acting like a spoilt 5 year-old. Stomping my feet inside my head saying things like “its not fair” “what about me” “I’m missing out” “ I want
The mature and sensible part of me knows that this is such a simple price to pay to ensure the healthy and safe arrival of my little guy. Nine months of sacrifice for a lifetime of payoff and I know that it really is so very little to ask. But I cant deny that there’s that other part of me who insists on stomping her feet and bitching about the fact that I’m missing out on my old life.
So if you see me over the coming weeks, with a sparkling water in my hand and a smile on my face. Don’t be fooled. I’m secretly insanely jealous of your NZ Sav Blanc and am more than likely plotting how to slip away and sulk in private for a moment or two.
But it’s only one Christmas. Its only 9 months. It’s only a tiny price to pay.
And oh, there’s only 134 days to go…. not that I’m counting 😉