Pooh
I was at a birthday party for a 2-yr-old the other day. The other guests were either very-small or in charge of the very-small. Then I farted. And suddenly there was an air of consternation in the room.
"Katie, come here. Katie! It's OK, I just want to check your..."
"No, I think it's Amber. Amber honey, come here a minute..."
"Well, um, actually..."
"Katie, come on. Oh no, it's not her."
"It's not Amber either."
"You see, the thing is..."
"Oh Molly, I only just changed your nappy! Come on darling, let me just..."
"I don't think it's Molly either..."
And all the time I'm clenching my cheeks and trying to contain yet another one, and wondering whether to just keep schtum about the whole thing. It's bad enough to be the purveyor of rear end stench-fests, but at least in most circumstances people politely ignore it, and you don't cause the instant eruption of half the adults in the room. Talk about stink bomb.
Of course, if I were more mischievous I would revel in it. I would seek out mother-and-toddler groups and stroll through their midst, happily emitting wilful niffs and then settling back to watch the mayhem.
It's not just my rectal emissions which smell. Pregnancy is an inherently whiffy business. My groin, for instance, is immune to all attempts at hygiene. Within minutes of a bath or shower it's at it again, gleefully manufacturing its pungent odours. What's all that about? Surely everything up there should be nicely plugged, sealed and generally held in for future use? Why the need for extra stinky stuff to be descending the birth canal so far ahead of an actual birth? And God forbid I should indulge my hormones and partake in any extra-procreationary activities. Pooeeee.
And then there's my armpits. Well actually, the main culprit is my left armpit. The right side of my body has always been the elder sibling: responsible, capable, able to write a letter. The left is playful and pays no attention to deodorant, and I live in fear of my pitiful supply of maternity wear rotting under the arm, on one side only.
But it's not only back bottom, front bottom and under-arm which let me down. My breasts have joined in too. I haven't done any pencil tests recently but I doubt there'd be enough writing implements in the house anyway, particularly not with the added bonus of large tummy-shelf to wedge them against. And that's all fine, I'm prouder than ever of My Magnificent Boobs. Although the aureoles are getting a little scary, reminding me that soon they won't much belong to me any more... but anyway. The added droopiness creates yet another bodily crevice in which pongs can gather, and the unique breast smell which I have only ever smelt during pregnancy and breastfeeding is back.
And finally, not to be outdone, my gums are joining in. According to the dentist I'm doing really well for a pregnant lady and hardly have any gingivitis at all, but my son still turns his head when I approach for the goodnight kiss.
The only small consolation is that 5-yr-old children and pregnant women have a better sense of smell than most. One of the many tricks nature plays... take a nauseous woman and multiply her olfactory abilities.
Yeah, thanks nature. Good one. I owe you.
___
"Katie, come here. Katie! It's OK, I just want to check your..."
"No, I think it's Amber. Amber honey, come here a minute..."
"Well, um, actually..."
"Katie, come on. Oh no, it's not her."
"It's not Amber either."
"You see, the thing is..."
"Oh Molly, I only just changed your nappy! Come on darling, let me just..."
"I don't think it's Molly either..."
And all the time I'm clenching my cheeks and trying to contain yet another one, and wondering whether to just keep schtum about the whole thing. It's bad enough to be the purveyor of rear end stench-fests, but at least in most circumstances people politely ignore it, and you don't cause the instant eruption of half the adults in the room. Talk about stink bomb.
Of course, if I were more mischievous I would revel in it. I would seek out mother-and-toddler groups and stroll through their midst, happily emitting wilful niffs and then settling back to watch the mayhem.
It's not just my rectal emissions which smell. Pregnancy is an inherently whiffy business. My groin, for instance, is immune to all attempts at hygiene. Within minutes of a bath or shower it's at it again, gleefully manufacturing its pungent odours. What's all that about? Surely everything up there should be nicely plugged, sealed and generally held in for future use? Why the need for extra stinky stuff to be descending the birth canal so far ahead of an actual birth? And God forbid I should indulge my hormones and partake in any extra-procreationary activities. Pooeeee.
And then there's my armpits. Well actually, the main culprit is my left armpit. The right side of my body has always been the elder sibling: responsible, capable, able to write a letter. The left is playful and pays no attention to deodorant, and I live in fear of my pitiful supply of maternity wear rotting under the arm, on one side only.
But it's not only back bottom, front bottom and under-arm which let me down. My breasts have joined in too. I haven't done any pencil tests recently but I doubt there'd be enough writing implements in the house anyway, particularly not with the added bonus of large tummy-shelf to wedge them against. And that's all fine, I'm prouder than ever of My Magnificent Boobs. Although the aureoles are getting a little scary, reminding me that soon they won't much belong to me any more... but anyway. The added droopiness creates yet another bodily crevice in which pongs can gather, and the unique breast smell which I have only ever smelt during pregnancy and breastfeeding is back.
And finally, not to be outdone, my gums are joining in. According to the dentist I'm doing really well for a pregnant lady and hardly have any gingivitis at all, but my son still turns his head when I approach for the goodnight kiss.
The only small consolation is that 5-yr-old children and pregnant women have a better sense of smell than most. One of the many tricks nature plays... take a nauseous woman and multiply her olfactory abilities.
Yeah, thanks nature. Good one. I owe you.
___
Labels: Babies, Breasts and Flesh
