Pregnancy makes you feel fat.

Just…write that down. It doesn’t matter how darling you look to anyone else, you feel like a baby beluga whale. & when anyone attempts to compliment me by saying “You look great!” I want to grab them ferociously by the arm & jiggle my fourth chin right in their beady eyes & scream “DO YOU SEE THIS?!?”

But since The Momma raised me right, I smile graciously, bat my lashes, & thank them. Bless their hearts.

Between the blog title & the opening segment, you’re probably wondering “Where the eff are you going with this, Blair?” but I promise, I have a point.

That point being my husband who still thinks I am the most beautiful, sexy creature God ever created (past Colbe Caillat). & despite the fact that I’m breaking out like a 15-year-old who took a whip to each hip (thank you, stretchies), he STILL WANTS TO HAVE SEX WITH ME. I know. It’s shocking to me, too. My 200+ lbs could easily steamroll him to get to the closest pint of Rocky Road, & he still pulls the “hand in the dark” card after we snuggle in for the night. Unfortunately, I blame pregnancy hormones & Braxton Hicks contractions for my despicable LACK of sex drive for the past…oh, 32 weeks.

But sometimes, I pretend to have a sex drive. Yes, that’s right. There are some nights where all I want to do is close my eyes, snuggle with a pillow, & say “Not tonight, dear.” But I don’t. I smile, return a kiss, & get busy with my husband. Why? Because he’s my husband & like I said…HE WANTS TO HAVE SEX WITH ME. & the simple idea of him finding me that attractive can get me faking it until I’m making it. But before you ridicule me for time-warping back to 1950 & June Cleaver’s chaste twin bed, I will state that I think many, many marriages & relationships can benefit from taking Nike’s cue & JUST DO IT once in awhile. Because even if you don’t get your jollies or you have a screaming headache, isn’t it nice to feel that wanted & loved? & isn’t it nice to do the same for your partner?

Oh, shit. How did I get up on this soapbox & where do I get down?? ::looks for stairs::

So the other night, Nate & I decided to partake in the marital act. To be 100% honest, he wanted it & I felt bad that it had been a good 5 days since our last romp in the sack. But aside from pregnancy making me feel like a heffalump, it makes me feel…dirty by the end of the day. I sweat more than usual, things are dripping out of places that are unmentionables, & I just can’t see feeling sexy when I haven’t properly shaved my arms yet. So with waggling eyebrows, I invited him into the shower. Because shower sex can be totally hot, right? At least, it was on our honeymoon.

Except I wasn’t pregnant on our honeymoon. In fact, I was 40 POUNDS LIGHTER & still practicing Pilates on a daily basis. & that shower was two times the size of ours, with a tile chair built-in (those folks at Sandals are wicked smart when it comes to honeymooners). Do you see where this is heading??

After many attempts in about 5 different positions, being thwarted by the large human basketball that is Harrison & my ridiculously long legs throwing me completely out of proportion to normal human standards, we realized that shower sex was no longer in the cards for us. & that we are not masters of the Kama Sutra. (Also, just as a personal tip from me to you, KY dries up in the shower. I don’t know if it’s the steam or the water, but it’s pretty much ineffectual 5 seconds after it hits a body part) Ten minutes later after much laughter & frustration, we threw in the towel. Or, as it was, toweled off. But I am simply thankful that we both have our necks intact after one particularly precarious attempt at balancing on the edge of the tub (him, not me…no worries, he wouldn’t let me balance on anything at this point in the game).

::sigh:: Looks like future cervix-softening techniques will have to occur in the actual marital bed.