Mindbling Has Her Demi Moment

Demi was quite the trailblazer. THANKS, DEMI. Not. This picture is from 1992. The year, I believe, her current husband was born.

I am officially 12 days away from my due date, which means that I could have had this baby last freaking week, but NO. He is being completely uncooperative. As of August 17th I have been MEDICALLY full term, but for reasons that I do not understand, most babies spend another week or three in the womb ‘putting on weight’.

Clearly, whoever engineered this did not have a vagina.  Why, in the name of all holy, would we want them to stay up there GAINING weight? We have to squeeze them out of our twee little lady flower holes. We don’t WANT nine or ten pound babies. No woman sits around saying, Dear god, I hope little Trevor comes out giant. No. We hope and pray that we have small babies with tiny little heads. Because they are coming out of our vaginas.

This is why as soon as August 17th hit, I started Operation Have the Damn Baby. The first thing I did was schedule an induction massage. Basically, this massage hits all of the ‘points’ that correspond to your uterus, with a special emphasis on hand and feet massage. I am of the personal belief that there is special place in heaven for people who give pregnant women a foot massage.

NOTHING, and I mean nothing, relaxes me as much as a foot rub. This is why it pains me that Mavrick won’t rub them. He has a foot aversion. All feet creep him out, mine especially, and pregnant, swollen feet in particular. We had one woman in our birthing class whose feet were so swollen; her flip flops were hanging on for dear life. We called her bread feet. Mavrick had to sit as far away from her as possible, because he was *that* creeped out by her tootsies. I felt bad for her, having had bread feet myself with jr.

Since Mavrick wasn’t touching my feet, I had to pay someone. And it was worth every penny. Even though the induction massage did not result in Mavbling deciding to make an early appearance, it got me 90 minutes of pure pregnancy bliss. I was seriously ready to leave Mavrick for my massage therapist. I still might. But for the fact that last night, Mavrick, of his own free will, rubbed my feet.

According to Mavrick, if Mavbling gets my feet, he will look like THIS when he's born.

Obviously, there is a story here.

While I did begin a full-uteral assault on August 17th, there was a part of me that was secretly hoping it didn’t work. For two reasons. One – I want Mavbling to be a Virgo, like his mommy, so he had to cook till August 24th, and two – we had an appointment for our pregnancy portraits on August 25th. So, part of me was like, okay baby, why don’t you get to stepping? And part of me was like, WAIT. We have shit to do next week. Stay put.

I was sort of on the fence about pregnancy photos. I certainly didn’t want any to look like this:

I know to me, nothing says I Love You Baby like a Goodyear.

But, this is my last baby, so it’s now or never. Okay, fine. I’ll do it. Then I had to find a photographer, which is harder than you think. After a series of blunders, we ended up going with the FABULOUS Laura Petrilla of Miss L Photography. I don’t want to say it was fate that brought us together, but I cannot explain to you how amazing the whole experience was.

Maybe she can make me look like our Senior Underpants Super Model Pal. I don't know about you, but I see a resemblance.

I had been on the fence, and in the days before the shoot, I was ready to just call it off. I had waited too long, I was too pregnant, I looked like a baby whale, it was cheesy, let’s just drop it. Mavrick and Wormy cheered me through it, pointing out that this would be my last chance to do it, so come on! And, if I hated the pictures, I could delete them, burn the evidence, and no one would be the wiser.

FINE! Then I’ll go. So I went. It’s a little known fact that I hate having my picture taken. I hate looking at pictures or video of myself. I feel like I always look like a fat blond chick, and it ruins my mental image of myself as some smoking hot babe-a-labe-a-ding-dong walking down the street. I’m like, AACK! Who is that almost middle aged chubby girl? It’s ME? Surely you’re mistaken .. I look like a supermodel … Good lord. It IS me. So ya, pictures suck.

CLEARLY this is not mindbling.

But I gamely let myself be moved, posed, a little this way, a little that way, and eventually, Laura and Mavrick were able to get me relaxed enough that I started to get into it. I started to have fun, even. Then she went there. Laura said, “For some reason, I want you to take off your pants.” This is not the first time a woman has said this to me. It is, however, the most recent. She didn’t mean take off my pants in a sexy time way. Rather, she thought that a shot of me in my white tank top and undies would look good.

I hemmed and hawed and came up with a zillion reasons why I COULDN’T do it, but finally, I caved. And that’s how I found myself in my Hane’s Her Ways, draped over an ottoman, with my hair spilling all around me, and my pregnant belly, rising into the sky like a Himalayan mountain. Both Laura and Mavrick were saying that the shots looked spectacular. I was sort of excited. I started to feel okay about being in my underwear. Then she let’s this fly: “I really think we should do some naked shots.”

Before I can say “No”, Mavrick has already said “Yes. Fantastic idea!” Of course he can say this. He is not the one pregnant and in his skivvies. “Sweetie!” he said, giving me his most charming smile, “you can be like Demi Moore! Heidi Klum! It will be awesome!” Now, Mavrick’s charm has gotten me naked plenty of times, but I was determined that this not be one of them.

“Baby. No. Just no. I don’t feel comfortable. I won’t look good. Just … no.” Both he and Laura went to work, convincing me that it would be tasteful, all my lady bits would be covered, it would look fantastic, etc. etc. I was unmoved. The world does not need naked pictures of me on my best day, much less at 675 months pregnant. Then, Mavrick laid a game-changer on me:

“I will rub your feet. Several times.”

I was out of my clothes in less than 3 seconds. “Let’s do this.”

It's going to look something like this. I just KNOW it!!

And that’s how I found myself buck naked in Lawrenceville, one hand over my vajazzie, one hand over my boobs, Mavrick holding a fan, and Laura snapping away. I was Demi Moore. I was Heidi Klum. I was a pregnant lady who would be getting a foot rub later, and goddamit, that was enough for me.

I cannot wait to see the proofs, and don’t worry, dear, dear readers. I would never imagine depriving you of the glory of seeing some of them. At least the underwear shots. The full on-nudies … well, you might have to give me a foot rub if you want to see those.




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11 responses to “Mindbling Has Her Demi Moment

  1. K8

    This made my laugh out load sentence after sentence…picture caption after picture caption. Can’t say that I can necessarily relate having never been preggers myself, but it was a beautiful and hilarious tale of self discovery. Can’t wait to see the pics, I’m sure you’re hot like Gisele/Heidi/Demi times 10.

    Fashion X K8

  2. Jonathan W.

    Good for you! That’s really exciting, and you couldn’t have gone with a better, cooler photographer.

  3. Sounds like a Bitchburgh calender is in the works! But doing this in L’ville is only raining more woman-confusion down on the Dating Club 4 Men.

  4. Txcris

    Bread feet! LMAO

  5. Right ON. So excited for you!

  6. Carly

    Check it out…ACUPUNCTURE got my baby to come out. I had to go to 2 sessions, but I swear to you, it worked. You know, if you’re planning to step up O.H.D.B. now that your pictures are done 🙂

  7. On behalf of all men, we thank all women for this pregnancy stuff. We promise to continue to do chores around the house.

    Oh, and because i remember where i was when that Demi Moore cover was published, i checked and it was 1991 not 1992 — if that makes any difference for your husband’s birth:


    • Mindbling

      I love that you remember where you where when the Demi Moore cover come out. It’s like the Kennedy’s assisnation, minus the whole dead president thing!

  8. Does that mean that Mav is Ashton Kutcher?

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