Vanity Fairest

Yesterday, I ran into a woman in yoga class that I haven’t seen in over a year. We started chatting right away, about my work and her grandkids, but my pregnancy just didn’t come up in the natural course of conversation. We were both sitting on our mats — I was cross-legged and kind of slouched over — and she obviously didn’t notice.

Halfway through the class, the teacher gave me a special instruction about how to modify a pose so that I could still do it safely. The woman, realizing that I was pregnant, gasped audibly, and then reached over, squeezed my arm and gave me big smile, obviously to share her excitement.

But then, after class, she blurts out with this:

“I didn’t even notice you were pregnant! You don’t look pregnant at all; you just look like you’ve gained some weight! I mean, I thought your face looked so much fuller!”

I mean, obviously, she probably just felt bad that she hadn’t noticed — although, honestly, I didn’t bring it up, so there was no reason for her to feel bad — and she was trying to compensate. But I really, really could have done without that. I mean, just what every pregnant woman wants to hear: “You don’t look pregnant; you just look fat.”

What’s Ironic: This weekend, I bought a pair of GAP maternity jeans called “Long and Lean.” My entire life, I have been neither long nor lean, nor have I been able to fit my, uh, “athletic” frame into anything described as such. Apparently, though, now I am long and lean.

What’s Not F*cking Funny At All: These so-called “Long and Lean” jeans are two sizes up from my usual size. (What about that, exactly, signifies “long and lean”?) Oh, and I had to buy a new pair of maternity jeans because, just halfway through my pregnancy, I have already outgrown my first pair, in all relevant areas but the belly. My rear end is currently as rotund as my baby belly and is growing at the same alarming rate. I think this kid is growing spare parts in my ass.

Sorry about all the not-so-matronly swearing today. Cautionary whale’s prerogative.

It’s a GIRL!

The ultrasound technician froze the screen, put up an arrow pointing to what looked like a lot of nothing, and (sure enough!) typed out: G-I-R-L.

We were both totally flabbergasted for, like, two minutes. But before they had even wiped the ultrasound jelly off my (now decidedly bulbous) belly, we were both just beaming, and I already couldn’t possibly picture us with anything else. How on earth had we ever thought it might be a boy?

I am already in love with the word “daughter.”

In other exciting news, the fact that this baby is a girl definitely means I’m clairvoyant.

Like everyone else, I often have dreams about things I’ve never encountered. I remember the dreams, but I never think much of them. However, there have been many, many times in my life when I’ll be somewhere I’ve never been, or meeting a new person, or having a particular conversation, and it will all be exactly as it was in a dream I had, usually several weeks before.

Anyway, I have only had two dreams about this baby, but both were very vivid, and in both, the baby was a girl. I could see her face in perfect detail, and she had a name and everything. I kind of dismissed the dreams, because I always assumed we would have a boy first … but obviously, I shouldn’t have. I fully expect that, when I meet my daughter, she will look (and the situation will feel) exactly as it did in my dream.

Rob, of course, insists that my dreams are just that uncanny feeling of déjà vu, but I think this baby gender news clinches what I have always known to be true:

I have special powers.

After the ultrasound, Rob commented on how neat it was when the lady typed out the word “girl” for us. ”Wasn’t that crazy? G-R-I-L-E  …” he started, and then, looking confused and shaking his head, continued: ” … wait. Le grill? What the hell is that?!”

Other choice comments include the following:

Rob: “At least she didn’t type out ‘monster.’ If I was the vet tech, I would totally type out ‘monster’ every time.”

Rob: “I can’t believe its a girl!”
Amanda: “I know! What should we name her?”
Rob: “Well … I like the name Amanda.”
Amanda: “Yeah, but you don’t really name a girl after yourself.”
Rob: “We could be trendsetters! Amanda Junior. We’ll call her AJ.”
Amanda: “I don’t know.”
Rob: “How about Rhinocerous?”

Varsity Vocals applications were due today. I was out walking Molly around 9:30 am (she refuses to get out of bed before the crack of nine; it is her one redeeming quality), when I see what is obviously a college kid (I spotted his hooded sweatshirt with pushed-up sleeves from halfway down the block) standing at my front door, trying to hand-deliver his group’s application.

I yell out to him and head over, thrilled that, for once, I am showered and dressed appropriately for one of these in-person deliveries. I even managed to remember to ditch the dog poop bag. Never mind that Molly is all over the place, and this kid was probably expecting an office building, and here I am, some crazy-seeming lady yelling “IS THAT FOR VARSITY VOCALS?!?!” from seven houses down.

I make my way over, say hello, and we get to chatting. I ask him what school he’s from, assuming maybe Loyola, or even DePaul. He responds:

University of Northern Texas.

That’s right. Apparently, his group realized the application deadline was today, and they really wanted to get their materials in on time. So, instead of contacting us to ask for a one-day extension and overnighting their materials, the group leader (who flies free because his mom works for American) hopped on a plane at 5:45 in the morning, flew to Chicago, and took the L and then a bus to hand me his group’s application.

The real kicker here is that the application form is online, and he didn’t have the entry fee together yet (had to get a check cut from the school blah blah blah). So this kid literally flew in from Texas to hand me a burned CD with MP3 versions of his group’s audition recordings. (Which, needless to say, he could have just emailed to me.)

It was one of the greatest — if not the dumbest — things that I have ever witnessed in my long history in a cappella. Such a sweet kid. And so very cool that he cares so much. It was a nice reminder to me that what we are doing with this silly-seeming small business really, really matters a lot, to a lot of people.