Remember when I used to drink? That was fun.
Last night I was thinking about where this blog has gone (downhill) since I became pregnant. And then I saw a little snippet about me on GOMI (proudest moment ever!) where someone referred to me as snarky and pregnant. This is accurate. I AM snarky and pregnant. But I think maybe some people don’t even know I used to be a beer runner.
The fact is, I used to run (poorly) and I used to drink a lot of beer (A LOT.) Not scary a lot, just the right amount of a lot. If you don’t believe me, click the “beer” category. Hint: It’s right over there under all the ads. —->
I had a pretty good routine going: Every day I ran and every day I drank a beer: instant blog content. But now any sense of a routine has gone out the window. I only work out when I feel like it. And I don’t run, I walk. Oh, sometimes there’s a little jogging interspersed, but I’m of the opinion that walking isn’t running. It’s just not.
I do like to swim and lift weights and sometimes I just like to eat frozen yogurt on the couch in my underwear. And while I enjoy doing these things, I’ve found that writing about them bores me to tears. And I think we all can agree there’s nothing more tedious than trying to make something interesting out of something banal. You have to fake it and you have to add in a lot of “whoop-whoops” and “huzzahs” and even then, I doubt you, my dear readers, would fall for it.
I also recognize the fact that I complain a lot. Maybe more than I used to. I’m not apologizing, and I assure you, I do actually love being pregnant. My big round belly is sort of a riot (except when I’m trying to sleep). I just think it’s more funny and entertaining to whine about the weird, gross and fat things that are happening to my body rather than gush about how wonderful and beautiful and special I feel. There are enough positive blogs out there. Not nearly as many that are realistic and honest.
So I will continue to snark and be pregnant and when I read something on the internet that is so stupid, it boggles my mind, I will make remarks about it in a roundabout way and we will chuckle into our hands because we all know exactly what I’m talking about.
But I will be a beer runner again some day. I’ll be a mom beer runner. And my baby will be metal.