First blog ever


If only time could fly. I wish. I’d fast forward to birthing day. I had a rough week last week because this big pregnant belly was really getting to me, making me feel fat and ugly. But then Sam said something that really got me to thinking. He said he’s ready for the next chapter in his life. Ready to be a father. Have a family. I realized I am not ready, but that’s ok. It’s happening whether I want it to or not. So, whatever. I have a big belly. So what? He keeps on making jokes about me breastfeeding. Like I’m ‘going to’ whether I want to or not. That’s a joke! I considered it alittle at first, but then I googled pictures of post partum breasts, and quickly realized breastfeeding is not for me. Yeah, it’s free food. It’s also a free ticket to ‘boobies-looking-at-the-ground-town”, so no thank you. A breast feeding advocate would argue that breastfeeding is the sole intended purpose for breast-a-tis. But it all depends on what you believe in. Creationism or Evolution. I believe in the Creation, believe it or not, and in the beginning there was only Adam and Eve. Eve was ONLY made to keep Adam company, and to please him. Aesthetically, Emotionally, and SEXUALLY. Those tits were JUST for looking. And feeling. And other things that would probably make my mom squirm. NOT for feeding tubes. The way Boobs were originally intended. That was back before the serpent duped her dumbass into eating the forbidden fruit. Then there was the curse, and part of the curse was child birth. Giving birth, your body transforming into a basketball carrying, milk producing, fat storage house was a curse. Breastfeeding was part of the curse. Sex becoming something that could have shitty consequences was part of the curse. That is why I feel it’s so natural for me to feel such aversion to it. That is why everyone else is so happy, and not me. That is also why I will not breastfeed and will happily spend my last penny on a can of powdered formula for my Eden. Powdered formula HAS got to be more healthy anyways, being that I cannot eat healthy to save my life. Digested Doritoes, Girl Scout Cookies, and Banquet microwaveable meals just don’t make for the best breast milk, as far as I’m concerned. And sweet tea. GOD. Poor Eden. I feel she’s going to be high sprung with all the sweet tea I crave. And drink. She kicks alot mostly right after I drink tea. Maybe if I drink a tall Red Bull she’ll kick a hole in my stomach and pop out and roundhouse our cat in the jaw. I’m sure that cat whining for someone to pet her gets on Eden’s nerves as much as mine and Sam’s. I’ve always had the problem of wrapping up my ego in insignificant things. Like musicians that I used to be obsessed with. I don’t know why I did, but for some reason I thought that if I crammed all their lyrics, all their pictures, and the spoken words between songs on the live performance tapes, bought all their shirts and memoribilia, I’d somehow become some superfan superhero. It was really all about me worshipping them when I would listen to their music continiously over and over and nothing but. I looked up to them and liked to use their hate and anger as a hard shell to put up all around my world of vulnerability. I pretended to be a hard ass. It wasn’t until after, with the influence of a real man in the real world living a real life with mature views that I realized that True strength is being able to be honest with others and show your vulnerabilities without fear of rejection. I’ve honestly never been able to do that outside of being drunk or under the influence of SOMETHING. It’s a skill that I’m working on. And the whole time I was wrapping up my ego in stupid silly things, it was also wrapped up in my appearance. I felt ‘ok’ or ‘acceptable in society’ as long as I looked good, and could hide behind a wall of good looks. I’m not saying I’m Beyonce or anything, just when I had my makeup on, and cute clothes, and my figure and my nails done, everything was alright. My looks were my security blanket. Now, that I’m 6 months pregnant, baby Eden has twisted my blanket up and thrown it in the dirty clothes pile. I’m lost, and I’m having to try and find some decency, some kind of SOMETHING to desparately hold onto as a basis for some self confidence. No Big Badass lyrics to make me feel high and mighty anymore. No awesome outfits and thick chunky platforms anymore. And for God-sakes, no bottle of beer or Jim Beam to give me the fake self-confidence I for a long time depended on. Just a long black trenchcoat, four pairs of maternity pants, and seven large women’s shirts my mom gave me to hide behind. And an old worn out pair of Sketchers Shape-Ups (yes, I am aware that they don’t really work. I like them anyways.) I don’t even get my nails done anymore. It’s not that I’ve quit caring, I’m just trying to find the good within myself, the spark or whatever it is, that makes my mom think I’m the third greatest person in the world. Or whatever it is that keeps Sam with me and not out prowling facebook for hot girls (like he did before me). I’ve got quite the task at hand. I think I can overcome it. I have everything else thus far. And don’t nobody try and tell me “when you’re baby’s born, that will be your purpose in life.”. Phooey on that. Although that may be YOUR story, alot-of-moms-I-know, I did have a life before pregnancy. It was very shallow and empty, but it was a life, and it was all I knew. And I got the scars from that life on me and in me forever. I will never, EVER be ‘just a mommy’ or ‘my kid is my life’. Not for me. Sorry. Yes, taking care of Eden will be a big task for the next 18 years, but it won’t be the FOCUS of my life. What I’m trying to say is yes, I’m a selfish individual, and having a kid won’t break me of it. The selfishness will just rub off on her as I teach her my ways. 🙂


About walkercadillac

Deconstructed Elegance. View all posts by walkercadillac

One response to “First blog ever

  • walkercadillac

    The above blog was written quite some time ago, back in Nov. of 2012 and since then, I no longer eat unhealthy….I changed that. I now eat mostly organic, fresh, wholesome, and expensive food.

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