3 Reasons Why I Am a Baby

Or, 3 Reasons Why I’m Thinking I Won’t Cope Well With the Physical Challenges of Pregnancy (If and When That Time Arrives)

1. Hunger makes me cranky.

I am one of those people whose body reacts with ridiculous histrionics to any sort of depletion. One time I was hiking out of the Grand Canyon with some friends when I suffered a sudden onset of low blood pressure and dehydration. Did I just feel crappier than normal but otherwise keep on trucking, perhaps a bit more slowly? No. I fainted all the way up that accursed trail and had to be half-dragged to the top. Embarrassing. And really annoying for my poor friends. Sorry, guys. The point is, my body is sensitive. I don’t just get hungry—I get the shakes. My limbs feel like noodles. My head throbs. My tummy burns to the point of nausea. We’re talking full-scale catastrophe. And of course, in this weakened state, my irritation at silly things skyrockets. head asplodes

2. Physical discomfort makes me pouty.

You know those times when you remember your tongue and you spend a few minutes feeling uneasily aware of that big weird thing in your mouth before you can finally forget about it (you’re welcome!)? I’m that way about everything. If there’s sweat rolling down my skin, I feel every maddening drop. I feel that little wisp of hair just barely brushing my left eyeball. I feel the awkward arrangement of my legs in a chair too tall for me and the fact that there’s nowhere to rest my arms. I notice the constriction of my clothing and the slightly-too-tight sandal strap. I’m sitting here driving myself nuts over the patches of my skin that feel dry and stiff (face, lips, hands, feet). Unless these things are immediately remedied (::pauses to apply lotion::), I am too distracted to accomplish anything. But, as happens more often than not, if I’m in a situation where I can’t address the annoyance right away, I grow convinced that the universe is deliberately persecuting me.

hangnail

Upon developing a hangnail and having no immediate access to nail clippers.


3. Pain makes me want to cry and kick my feet.

The thing I hate the very most about pain is my inability to control it. In fact, the pain begins to control me—it limits my mobility, my motivation, my productivity. I become impatient at these limitations and frustrated at my helplessness, which translates into a puerile impulse to break everything in sight. Yesterday I scattered scrambled egg bits all over the kitchen because I couldn’t lift the frying pan the way I wanted to because my neck is all seized up, so I threw the eggy spatula into the sink with no little petulance. Take THAT, stupid neck.

Highly Sensitive Person

If you identify with any of the preceding statements and wonder if you’re teetering on the edge of insanity, I recommend 1) having a hot bath and calming the heck down and 2) reading this book. You’ll be glad you did.

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6 thoughts on “3 Reasons Why I Am a Baby

  1. Haha, I can identify with some of these. I don’t think I’m necessarily highly sensitive, but I’m pretty sensitive to hunger and pain too. Doing what I do can make me extremely cranky, but i I have to keep it all inside. I work with people several hours back to back and often feel hungry, sweaty, frustrated with awkward interactions, or in pain but I can’t let anyone know it! I have to put on a smiley face and be all motivating and positive agghhhh!! I’ve had to choke back screams when all of this culminates at the moment I see someone doing an exercise completely wrong after I’ve told/showed them 40 times how to do it right haha! Then I unleash my fury at home and KC is like “whaaaaa…???” Lol!

  2. Trillium Meeks says:

    Well, I WASN’T aware of my arms having no resting place, or how strange my tongue is, or the awkwardness of wearing clothes, or the ridges on my teeth, or a myriad of other things that keeps expanding as I try to type this comment. Thanks.

  3. We’ve talked about this before, and you’ve recommended this book to me before. I think it’s about time for me to read it. And maybe I should make Chaz read it, too, because he’ll understand better why I’m an absolute CRANKYPANTS sometimes.

  4. […] standards and formats with incredibly lengthy documentation), but also just for life. Stop freaking out so much over all the tiny details, guys. Be more like me. Be zen. Sadly, I did not follow this advice when I took three dozen photos […]

  5. April says:

    Yes to most of that. Especially the teensy-tiny annoyances that become all-consuming. My mother still calls me the Princess and the Pea because when I was little I would nearly throw a fit if there was a tiny piece of gravel in my shoe or if – worst of all – my sock slouched down around the middle of my foot inside my snow boot. Thank goodness for grown-up socks with better elastic.

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