I DO Want to Express Myself, and I Don't Need 37 Pieces of Flair to Do It.

The further I get into this pregnancy, the more laser-focused I become on the business of pregnancy and motherhood and the more I perceive anything else as an unwelcome distraction. Namely, anything work-related. I realize my inability to multi-task or be a complex human being makes me super lame, but my cankles also make me super lame, and they aren't going anywhere. The one thing working in my favor is that being (very) visibly pregnant makes me "cute" (that's debatable), vulnerable, and harmless-looking, which allows me to basically say or do anything I want. It was these same qualities that made Sophia from The Golden Girls great. Now if only I could harness that new found, temporary power and leverage it towards a greater goal...

I'm trying to get through my remaining weeks of pregnancy and working with some grace and dignity, but this surge of crazy pregnancy hormones has other plans in store for me. I'm extremely cranky. My co-workers aren't helping matters. I avoid the break room at all costs, because if I set one foot in there, I will face such questions as, "Are you going to breastfeed?", "Will you be delivering vaginally?", "Do you plan to have a natural childbirth?" Having a baby bump is like wearing a t-shirt that says "Ask Me About My Vagina". Is it too much to ask that I be allowed to heat up my chicken noodle soup without having to discuss my lady parts with people who, up until a few months ago, were complete strangers?

Today I am irritated (the reason isn't important) with a co-worker who Steve has only heard me refer to as "Persian Dwight Schrute." She's a tall, very thin, attractive part-time front desk employee, and her attendance record would be grounds for termination by most reputable employers. She routinely calls in sick for days at a time, only to come to the spa to hang out because she's "bored." If she isn't enjoying a free massage, pedicure, or blowdry, she likes to sit in a chair at the front desk or by the pedicure stations, her long legs folded up like origami, obsessively trimming the split ends of her long black hair with a pair of scissors for hours. I would love to tell you that this is the behavior of an 18-year-old cosmetology school dropout, but we're talking about a college-educated woman who's on the wrong side of 25. Possibly 30.

Despite the her part-time employment status, she has this maniacal desire for authority. She regularly hijacks management responsibilities that have not been delegated to her. She has demanded to fire insubordinate coworkers, and has been desperately seeking a "title" so that she can rule the spa with an iron fist. For fifteen hours a week, tops. One other tidbit: I heard that she is shunning one or more members of her family indefinitely. That, combined with her hunger for power makes her one beet farm removed from The Office's Dwight Schrute. 

I promised myself I would work up until my due date. I really want to stick it out as long as I can. Money makes the world go 'round, people. I'd love to have some extra cash stashed away before I go into early retirement. But if these knuckleheads at work don't ease up, I just might not make it...