[AUDIO NOTE: I performed this piece this past weekend at Anna David's True Tales of Lust and Love (also starring Melissa Villasenor, Morgan Walsh, and Claire Titelman.) I highly recommend listening to this tale in all its mortifying glory -- it's better with the sound of an audience screech-laughing in horror. Here's the link to the recording of the show. (On iTunes here in the 11/12 show.) I'm the third story.]
[WARNING: This story is not for the squeamish.]
So I’m super pregnant. And with that comes all these horrible things. Like, I can’t feel my fingertips – haven’t been able to in weeks. It’s carpal tunnel, it apparently happens to pregnant women, and it’s shitty. My gums bleed when I brush my teeth, I’ve lost all the hair on my arms, I am down to one position in bed where I can sleep without my legs going numb, I’ve got this cold I’m not allowed to take anything for other than hot baths and pity parties, and there’s a parasite that lives inside of me that absorbs all of my nutrients. Or as my El Salvadorian housekeeper likes to say: “Your baby is stealing your beauty.”
I have had a rough time lately. Consequently, my shoulders have been resting pretty much at my earlobes twenty-four seven. So on my way home today, I decided to treat myself to a massage. It turned out to be more than the soothing Swedish touch I was expecting.
Shortly after it began I did that thing where I worry the massage won’t be as hard as I need it to be, and will feel like someone kind of making sure my skin got stroked instead of my muscles worked. “You can go a little harder,” I said.
She chuckled. “First five minutes, warm-up,” she said. You guys, she wasn’t kidding.
Five minutes later, I’m sweating. “Yo,” I involuntarily say as she’s got her elbow jammed under my scapula. “That is intense.”
“Yes,” she says, not letting up. “Yes, um-hmm.”
veruca salt ain’t got nothing on me.
There is a knot in my back. Right by my shoulder blade. I really, really, really need a massage therapist.
Sometimes I take a look around at my friends and realize that I’m missing some important people in my life. Some of my friends are just standing around wasting their bodies instead of contributing to the good of the group whole.
Sure, they’re all funny, but do we need that many funny people? Like, use the funny as a hobby or something, but find a useful talent for the group.
not like it isn’t my fault, really.
So I’m worried. About a few things.
I’m worried that I’m not the right person to show people Austin. I’ve got about four days left to become a cool Austin person before stee gets here and I’m supposed to be the one to show him how cool this place is. Homeboy doesn’t eat red meat, so the whole Texas Barbecue thing is thrown out the window. Maybe with all of the film things and sxsw parties he’ll never notice that I didn’t show him the town.