Sexy Fake Lady Cops Make Me Sad This Year(Halloween Edition)

Several months ago, I wrote a blog entry about pregnant body image, in which I discussed my fondness for my new, curvier figure. I figure now, with hot, young women running around everywhere in barely-there Halloween costumes, is as good a time as any to talk about the flip side of that issue.

I am finding myself to be much more jealous of all the girls in skanky Halloween garb this year than I would have ever expected. However, it is not a simple form of jealousy. It is not that I want to be out in the clubs with my midriff bared, ass cheeks making frequent appearances, drinking with strangers. That is something I haven't really embraced with gusto since 2006 or '07(see picture). I also don't think it has to do with the fact that my husband is spending his nights this Halloween weekend working at the Boot, which is arguably ground zero for way hot, mostly naked college chicks, although I don't think that is helping.

I think my feelings this weekend are stemming more from the fact that my body has completely robbed me of my ability to look sexy. I know that it is doing something amazing, and most of the time I love my big, round belly. I tolerate my gigantic thighs and giggling butt without more than a passing thought, most days. I have certainly not been consumed with worrying about regaining my figure or anything depressing like that. Overall, I think most people would say my disposition about all of pregnancy's physical effects has been overwhelmingly sunny.

But now there are these goddam women everywhere wearing practically nothing. And the fact is that my body in thigh highs and the miniest of "themed" mini dresses would, at the moment, inspire more laughs than swoons.

For me, sexuality and sexiness were things that came into play in various human interactions on a daily basis from the time I reached puberty. I suspect that this is true for most women my age. It is not something we consciously think about, but female sexuality is an extremly powerful thing. Just ask any man, anywhere, ever. So, the inabilty to be, or at least feel, "sexy" is an unfamiliar and frustrating experience, especially at 24 years old.

So, I suppose when it comes down to it, I am not truly "jealous" of all the scantily-clad women who are out celebrating tonight. They are probably going to be cold later on, and they will definitely have hangovers tomorrow. I am, however, envious of the way they clearly feel, like they can conquer any bar line, and therefore the world, with the sheer power of their young, trim bodies. I miss feeling that way, if I am being honest.

I would imagine that every woman who has ever been pregnant has felt this way from time to time. The fact is that a body that is almost done growing a baby sometimes feels like it is more for the baby than for its true owner. And that is ok. I love my son more than I can say. I like pushing back when he kicks my belly and feeling him respond. I like thinking about holding him in two months, hearing him say "mama" a few months later, and watching him take his first steps before we know it. All of these things are worth a few days of glaring at every "sexy traffic director" I see.

But don't expect me to stop glaring. It may be childish; it may be hypocritical, seeing as there isn't much I enjoy more than R-rated dress up. But it is what it is. And I am too tired from growing a CHILD here, people, to control every emotional impulse I have. My slutty Halloween days are almost certainly over, but that doesn't mean I won't be feeling that "conquer the world" sexiness soon. Because I am going to be sexy again before you know it.... Right?

Dreaming of a Fat Christmas

I heard "White Christmas" playing over the sound system in a store today, and it made me unbearably excited. Don't get me wrong; I know it's obscenely early for Christmas music. This year, though, I have legitimate reasons to get giddy at the thought of the approaching holidays.

I am the kind of person who always becomes excited when the Christmas trees appear like magic in the malls. The incessant cycles of the same old Christmas carols in public places don't bother me. I sing the girl parts of "Baby It's Cold Outside" literally every time I hear it, regardless of where I may be located at the time. Something about "Christmas Joy" is just very real to me; always has been. I guess it has to do with the bubbling anticipation of Christmas morning that is built into American children from birth.

This year, I have already begun dealing with a constant bubbling anticipation, but it cannot be blamed on Christmas's approach. My son's due date just happens to be December 29th, adding a whole lot of excitement and intrigue to the holiday season. It's like waiting for a hundred Christmas mornings, and it is constant.

In a lot of ways, waiting for a baby is like waiting for Santa. Whereas children never know what Santa Clause may bring in his sack, I don't know what our baby will bring in his appearance, his personality, or his temperament. I can make educated guesses based on my own and my fiance's traits, much like a child can safely assume that Santa received her list of wishes and acted obligingly. Still, kids never really know until they unwrap their gifts under the tree, and I will not know until I complete what I presume will be a short and relatively painless labor and birth.

So forgive me if, this year, I nearly pee with excitement the first time I hear "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas", or see a house decorated for the holidays, or smell baking gingerbread and hot chocolate. The normal indicators of Christmas's approach all seem like big signs saying "YOUR BABY IS ALMOST HERE!!" to my crazy, pregnant brain.

I'm just glad I am not in Maryland, where I grew up, and where the first snow flurries of the year always put me into an orgiastic, Christmastastic frenzy. This year I would likely run out into the snow, barefoot, belly out, and chase the snowflakes, wild eyed, while screaming "It's beginning to look a lot like BABIES!" into the night. And no one wants to witness that, not even Saint Nick.

Blaming the Economy for the Failure of Marriage, and Why I Do So

I have been thinking today about the institution of Marriage and its state of crisis in America. I have also been thinking about "I Love Lucy" and Robert B. Reich's new book, Aftershock: The Next Economy and America's Future. This convergence of cognition has led me to believe that there may be some blame to place on the economy when trying to determine what happened to the sacred institution of marriage in this great nation.

First, let me say that I think an argument based purely on a supposed "decline of values" for why so many marriages fail is cheap, easy, and aimed by older people at the youth. It is, in a word, bullshit. Family structures have changed so much since our grandparents were married that to even make a comparison between their marriages and ours is frankly ridiculous. This is where "I Love Lucy" comes in.

There is an episode of "Lucy" where Ricky and Fred accuse Lucy and Ethel of essentially sitting around all day and spending all of the boys' hard earned money. The women, of course, respond that making a living isn't much compared to trying to run a household. The four agree to trade places, with the women getting jobs at a candy factory and the men staying home and doing household chores and cooking. Predictably, the women cannot cut it in the workplace and the men are possibly even more hopeless in the home. Hilarity ensues.

"I Love Lucy" was, of course, a comedy, but it was based very strongly in truth. In the fifties, men were not taught to cook or clean or take care of themselves. Women seldom ventured into the workplace, at least not with the goal of developing a career. At this point in American history, the institution of marriage was vitally important to the survival of adults. Men made money to support women, and women made sure that men ate and had clean clothing to wear to work.

A lot of people would argue that this gender inequality made life unhappy and unfair for women, which is probably true. Women were incapable of fending for themselves should their marriage go wrong, and many became trapped in bad, abusive, or unhappy situations. However, I would argue that the 1950's marriage arrangement bred a kind of love between married men and women that we do not see as much these days. The recognition that one cannot survive without another person fosters unconditional love; that is why children inherently love their parents. In Lucy and Ricky's marriage, Lucy played mother to Ricky and Ricky brought home the bacon and issued scoldings like a father does. And they loved each other unquestioningly for it.

Rob B. Reich's short book, Aftershock: The Future Economy and America's Future is a brief, poignant discussion of the current economic situation in the West, and what America can do to improve while moving forward. His main point, briefly, is that the American middle and working classes are being squeezed too hard economically and are unable to buy things and stimulate the economy. He argues that for decades, the median wage for working men has not risen in order to keep up with inflation. As a result, more and more women have been forced into the workplace in order to support families. In addition, both men and women have begun having to work overtime in order to get by. As a result, families suffer.

I'm not arguing that women should not have careers. Women who want careers should go out and grab them with both hands. I am arguing that women who are forced into the workplace in order to support their families with limited skills tend to be unhappy women. I would also argue that men are happier coming home to warm dinners than coming home to wives drained and bitchy from their terrible jobs. (Not to mention the fact that it is probably nice for children to see their parents from time to time.)

Reich says that in order to heal the American economy, we need to make sure the middle class is provided with opportunities to earn and keep the money they need to purchase things and invest in the economy. I say we need to do the same things in order to heal the American institution of Marriage. We need to have a system that allows for Lucys and Rickys, especially when young children are involved. If not, we need to stop putting so much pressure on the idea of marriage to begin with. It is quite possible that it is outdated, not because of my generation's (and my parents generation's) abominable value systems, but because traditional gender roles that made marriage necessary and reciprocal aren't allowed to exist anymore.

But that's a conversation for another time.