The Ticket to Laziness, Moodiness and Brattiness

Being pregnant is awesome! I kid you not, it's the greatest thing ever! It's your license to get out of things you don't wanna get into, and to get the things you wanted to get, but normally wouldn't. In short, it's your ticket to laziness, moodiness and brattiness. All legit and perfectly excusable... because your pregnant!

I don't feel like cooking tonight, Honey, I'm too tired!... 'No problem, Babe. Just sit back and relax.'
I can't clean the house, the vacuum is too heavy!.. 'Don't worry, I'll do it.'
Can you grab me a piece of cake in the fridge? I'm craving for one... 'Okay, Honey.'
Don't argue with me, I'm pregnant!... 'Fine, I'm keeping my mouth shut.'
I think you should get me that diamond necklace, I'm carrying your baby!... 'Sure, which one?'

Being pregnant is wonderful... exhaustion, sore boobs and countless trips to the bathroom aside.

The Power of a Pink Line

Let me tell you something.

Patience is not one of my virtues.

I've been literally trying to hold myself back from spilling the news since the day I found out - for fear that it's all a dream or just a false alarm,- that I sometimes feel like my head's going to explode from all the contained excitement. Well... I decided that before I gross either my neighbors or my co-workers out with scattered brain tissues, I might as well spill the beans!

Drum roll please....

I'm 6 weeks pregnant!!! Yes, you heard it right! P-R-E-G-N-A-N-T, pregnant!!! And the most wonderful thing is, Hubby and I did it without the expensive help of science! Just the tried and tested, old-fashioned baby-making technique!

As some you already knew, we had been trying to conceive since Month Two of our married life. However, after seven months of amazing sex with no luck, we finally went to a doctor who performed ridiculously ASSpensive tests, and told us we have infertility issues and that the only way we'll conceive is through the help of science! This naturally resulted to me crying at every diaper commercials, and becoming painfully aware of how many pregnant Moms there are in every grocery stores or how many crying babies there are in churches during the few occasions that I go.

But whatever. If there's one thing about me, it's that I never give up. Especially if it's something I really wanted. So I wrote a complete and detailed list of all our options... from Plan A to Plan D.

Fortunately, before we even get to the money-draining Plan B, the undoubtedly enjoyable (except for the occasional times when I or Hubs wasn't in the mood and it starts to feel more like work) and natural Plan A worked!

Predictably, I've been on cloud nine since the day that precious pink line showed up in all three of my pregnancy tests. (I just have to be completely sure!) There are times when I still find it so hard to believe. I keep expecting myself to wake up and realize it's all a dream. I've been so used to disappointments, month after month, that my happiness is sometimes still tinged with fear. I know the next couple of months are crucial, as miscarriages are more prevalent on the first trimester, but I have faith. If before I don't believe in miracles, I definitely do now. This is our miracle! God answered our prayers and I can only hope that He continues to do so, and give us a strong, healthy, smart and beautiful baby. Boy or girl... I don't care.

Caught Between a Rock and a Hard Place

I'm a die-hard 'Friends' fanatic. My love for that show is parallel to my love for shopping, watermelon and all things beach-related. I watch the re-runs on TV everytime they're on (which is like, everyday!), even though I own the complete DVD series. (Talk about obsessed!)

But that's not the point of this post.

The point is that, last night, I watched an episode of Friends where Rachel's a-hole but ravishingly yummy, Italian boyfriend made a pass at Phoebe, while she was trying to give him a body massage. This resulted to Phoebe having the obvious dilemna of whether to tell Rachel or not. In the end, she did, Rachel believed her and broke up with her boyfriend, and everything went well.

This of course, brought me to memory lane and reminded me of a kinda similar scenario that happened back in my graduate school days. I say kinda, because the guy didn't make a pass at me (thank God, or I'd be serving jailtime for punching him in the face!), but cheated on a friend of mine with a questionably hot woman... and I caught him! And also because, my life - despite all my prayers and wishful thinking, isn't a TV show or a fairy tale, and that unlike Rachel and Phoebe, things didn't go well between me and my friend after I told her!

Instead, like a true one-lab-accident-from-being-a-supervillain that she turned out to be, she accused me of lying and being jealous because at that time, she's got a boyfriend and I didn't. (Oh women, why are we so complicated?) She completely cut me off from her life and continued dating the guy. But as far as I knew, it only lasted for another month or so, because the next thing I've heard, they've broken up. I can only assume that she found out for herself what a douchebag he really was.

I thought after their break-up, she'd be on her knees begging for forgiveness and telling me that I'm the greatest friend to ever roam planet Earth. No such luck! For a while, I missed her and wondered if I made the right decision, but then thought... wait a minute, if she were my true friend, she would have trusted me and believed that I only had the best intentions!

So, in my early-twenties Drama Queen fashion, I said... Eff it! She can stick our friendship up her royal butt!

What would you do if you we're in my shoes? Would you tell your friend or just let her find out for herself?

For the Sake of Fashion

The Hubby and I had been walking at the mall for two hours the other day, when I started whining.

"I gotta rest. My feet are killing me."

He looked at my 2 1/2-inch high-heeled boots and said, "Why did you wear those shoes? You knew we were gonna go shopping!"

Oh crap, the guy's got a point! Too bad my brain wasn't functioning when I was getting ready to head out of the door! But... like a typical wife, I'd be darned if I admit that I was wrong, and that he was, for once in his life, right about something. So instead, I gave him the most brilliant explanation I can come up with.

"Honey, these boots make me look taller and walk sexier. Sometimes, you just gotta sacrifice comfort for the sake of fashion!"

And with that, tried to walk as sexily as I can with a slight limp in my gait.

Of Wedding Dresses and Losing Weight

I think I might have to stop donating to the gym and start using it for real.

Allow me to explain.

A year and a half ago, or two months after my then-boyfriend (and now-husband) finally realized he couldn't live without me and asked me to marry him, I went to David's Bridal with my sister with the sole intention of just-to-look. We came to the door, and were greeted by a saleswoman who's got a very strong persuasive power she'd probably convince Rush Limbaugh to become a Democrat. I told her what my intention was, and off she went to bring out dresses I could try on. I did, and one dress in particular caught my eye and sent my heart into a frenzy flutter. I knew right then and there it was the ONE. I just have to have it! It didn't matter that we haven't set a wedding date at that time. Between the saleslady's strong persuasive powers and my typical shopaholic's ability of turning just-to-look into i-gotta-buy, I knew my willpower's at the losing end. Well... I don't have to tell you how that battle played out.

Fast forward to the present.

I ended up just having a preliminary civil wedding, and since I didn't wanna look like a crazy, overdressed bride walking around the courthouse, I decided to wear a short, simpler dress. I figured I'll just wear the ONE when the right time comes.

Unfortunately, I didn't take into consideration what a year of marriage does to people... it makes you gain weight!

So yesterday, I was trying on my size 2 wedding dress when I realized... que horror, I couldn't get into it!!! This naturally resulted to me screaming for Hubby at the top of my lungs he thought I cut off my arm or something. With his help and some belly-tucking and breath-holding, I finally got into my dress. It still fits, although obviously... just barely.

So now, here I am, onto my 35-day mission of losing at least five pounds before our vow renewal ceremony. I'm starting tomorrow. Let's see how long will I last. If you haven't guessed yet, I'm not a fitness buff, but right now, I've got the motivation!

Needless to say, my husband - the workout junkie, was so happy, he's thinking of renewing our wedding vows every year. You know... if that's what it takes to get me to the gym.

If You're a Mistress of a Man You Knew Is Married, Do You Deserve an Apology?

I've had enough of this Tiger Woods drama, as I'm sure you are too. I wasn't actually planning on writing anything about the whole saga, because frankly, I think his personal life is supposed to be that... personal and private. I think we should just care about what he does in the golf course and nothing else. But the latest development had me boiling to the core that I just felt a  terrible need to talk about it. (This would be my first and last post about this, I promise!)

The thing is, his alleged mistress is demanding a public apology from him. When I heard this, my intial reaction was... What? Say that again? She wants an apology, like she deserves one? Her Hollywood lawyer (Gloria Allred) explained that he should, because he pursued her, lied to her, told her she's the only one, blah, blah, blah.

Now, wait a minute, you sad, pathetic woman! Don't tell me she doesn't know that Tiger Woods have a wife and children! It's only all over the news since they got married! Unless she's making porn movies cooped up in a shack in Timbuktu, there's no way in hell she doesn't know he's married. Why don't the two of you just  tell us honestly what you really hope to gain by doing this?

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not on Tiger Woods' side either. Frankly, I think he's a douchebag for cheating on his wife. I've been cheated on before and the experience left me with such a bitter taste, that my resulting hatred for cheaters continue to run through my veins. The pain of heartache coupled with the pain of betrayal was too much to handle that I almost had a breakdown. I had moved on since then, but I can't say, even after four long years, that I have completely forgiven the guy.

However, I also think that if you knowingly enter an affair with a married man/woman (or someone in a relationship), you're as guilty as the cheater. You're officially a homewrecker! I know sometimes it's hard to choose who to fall in love with, but you don't have to let your heart (or crotch) rule over your head. Your brain is on top of your body for that reason! If you do, then don't expect any sympathy. Especially if you're a woman like her who's probably not even in love with Tiger Woods, but only after his money and fame. Show some dignity, woman!

My dear friends, what's your take on this? Discuss.

For the Love of Dancing

Last Saturday, after days of constant prodding and promises of nudity, I finally convinced the Hubby to take me dancing. The last time I've been to a dance club was when Justin Timberlake was still trying to bring the sexy back (which is like three years ago, when I was still in graduate school), and I just felt this terrible need to release my pent-up dance energy. Next to shopping and eating ice cream, I love, love, love dancing! Unfortunately, I married an old soul trapped in a hot, young body who doesn't. Well... at least, I was able to convince him to take me.

So off to the club we went.

A minute after we started dancing, I finally understood. The poor guy can't dance for the life of him! (This is a sort of thing I should have known during the wedding dance. Unfortunately we didn't have one). At some point, I think I might have laughed at the way he danced that he decided he has done his husbandly duty of pleasing me and just stood beside me watching me dance. And no amount of prodding and begging could make him dance again.

But I decided that nothing can ruin my night. Who knew when the Hubs will take me out again?

So I continued dancing around him, oblivious to anybody who might be watching.

And there I was, dancing happily and uninhibitedly, when my eyes came into contact with a guy who winked naughtily at me. All of a sudden, I realized how I must have looked like dancing sexily around a standing pole of a man! I looked around and sure enough, I gathered a few interested audience. Slightly embarrased, I told the Hubby to start dancing or else...

After that night, I came home with two realizations... (1) that it's better to take my girlfriends next time I go clubbing, and (2) that I might have discovered the perfect back-up job in case this Chemistry gig doesn't pan out.