Malleable

The other day I was talking to S-Unit about my inability to get certain things done, specifically laundry.  “It is difficult to choose to do laundry when I’ve got other options, like going out,” I told her. “I have a hard time saying no.” “Uh huh., I know. That’s how you got your reputation,” she quipped.

With ‘no’ on my mind, but not on my agenda, I prepared for Maternity-oke. The Responsible One, Drink Whisperer, Sleepless and I thought a pregnancy theme at karaoke was a swell (literally) idea. “We can drink for two all night,” said The Responsible One. After picking the perfect outfit and adjusting my rollers just so, I grabbed my slippers, stuffed a pillow in my leggings, and made my way. I was fully ‘expecting’ to have a great time!

When I arrived, I found Passed The Sniff Test, dressed in scrubs with a stethoscope, waiting for me at the bar. I sallied up next to him, sliding my bump underneath the bar. Outside of him, Giddy Up (the bartender), and KJ (karaoke master), there were only three other people in the bar. Within a few minutes, D-Dog joined us. Unfortunately, she missed the theme message and was not donning a baby bump. “I’m in my first trimester,” she said, “I may not show for several more weeks.” Smooth.

We took our places at our ‘table’ and were in the midst of selecting theme appropriate songs, “Baby I’m A Want You,” “My Humps,” “Mamma Mia,” “Baby Got Back,” “Mama Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Cowboys,” “Papa Don’t Preach,” and the like, when one of the other patrons approached me. “Don’t I know you?” I’ve never seen or met this man and responded, “Yes, we met nine months ago.” This must have been the response he was looking for because he bought “the ladies” drinks. “Don’t you think it is poor taste to buy a pregnant woman a drink?” asked Passed The Sniff Test. “Who am I to judge?” I responded while rubbing my belly and enjoying my Long Island.

We had been there for about thirty minutes when Passed The Sniff Test asked, “Where is everybody else?” “I don’t know. The only thing that should be late tonight is their periods,” I answered. Not only were they late, they completely aborted their plans to attend, citing morning sickness and headaches. Thus, I was the only pregnant one at the party. History does have a way of repeating itself. Luckily, I’m malleable.

Tree and FatGirl soon joined us and the good times were rolling. “You should write this stuff down,” Passed The Sniff Test advised. “I can’t remember,” I replied. “That’s why you should write it down.” “I know,” I said, “but I can’t remember to write it down. Memory loss is common during pregnancy.”

At one point, FatGirl and I took center stage with Passed The Sniff Test. Perhaps we were singing “Doctor, Doctor” by the Thompson Twins . Again, I can’t remember all of the details. I do remember, however, that Passed The Sniff Test tried to pick us up, one in each arm, at the same time. This didn’t go as planned and we were soon lying on the floor. “Good thing your bump is so malleable,” yelled Giddy Up from the bar. “He dropped us like we’re hot,” I yelled back. “We are hot, honey,” FatGirl added. 

Hot we were – a couple of hot messes, to be exact. We decided to head to breakfast, pregnancy cravings get me every time, and Tree was driving. After several minutes on the road, FatGirl told him he was driving like an Asian. “Whatever,” said Tree. The mother in me kicked in and I told FatGirl that was not appropriate. “He has always referred to me as Asian,” said Tree and continued. “It started a long time ago when I first met his little group. There was one black, one Mexican and one white guy. They made me an Asian.” “How did they ‘make you an Asian’?” I asked. “They said, ‘We already have white Doug, Black Shaun and Mexican FatGirl. If you want to hang out with us you have to be Asian Tree.'” See,” said FatGirl, “I’m not racist, I’m just selective.” Racist. Selective. Malleable. Pregnant. Bloated. It is interesting what we  gestate, in our minds and our uteri.