Bagel Foot

I once saw this episode of Taboo on National Geographic that was all about bizarre body modifications, and the weirdest one of all was the "bagel head" phenomenon.  What they do is attach a saline drip to the fool's expressive individual's forehead and pump it in until a big bump forms, much like you'd imagine would be created by vigorous facepalming. Then, with a finger, an indent is pushed into the middle of the bump. The end result: the recipient looks like she or he has had a bagel implanted in their forehead, at least for a few hours until their bodies can absorb all the saline. Great success!

Watch it for yourself here:

I bring it up because yesterday I realized that I can do the same thing with my enormously swollen feet! And just when I thought that there was no upside to this condition, too. BEHOLD (the spots on my foot, by the way, are psoriasis, because I'm not allowed to take my usual meds because pregnant... it's awesome):

Now I know how EYE'LL be spending my Saturday. And you?

P.S. I had to go to the hospital again yesterday for yet another scan (all's well), and spoke to the head doctor about inducing labor. Basically she said I should show up on Tuesday morning with a car seat, cashew nuts and a suitcase full of giant underpants because I'm not leaving again without a baby. Thank Gof for clarity. 

Underpants and The Dangling Bough

I didn't post anything yesterday owing to a major laptop-related disaster. But today I'm back to talk about the underpants and share a very short video that I made of the laziest tree branch in the world.

Photo: Wikimedia Commons

Because the infant continues to make herself scarce, yesterday I again trooped up to the 18th district for a CTG (cardiotocography). A CTG measures your fetal heart beat and also any contractions you may be having by way of two transducers (had to look that one up) that are strapped to your heaving belly for about half an hour. Occasionally a nurse walks by and gives your gut a hearty jiggle to wake the baby up. This little exam takes place with increasing frequency after your due date, plus they do an ultrasound to check whether your kid is in the preferred head-down start position and make sure that your placenta and umbilical cord still work.

This might all be really boring for you, but for me it was totally riveting, not least because this was the only opportunity I have ever had to be concurrently in the company of several enormously pregnant women who all have their panties showing.  This is because the "CTG Lounge" (true story) at the clinic fits four girls at once. Last time I made the mistake of lying on my left side so I could watch the heart monitor. This time I made sure I could peer up everyone else's skirts. (And if I could have taken a photo to post, I would have).

The exam involves baring your belly so that the thingies can be strapped on. Thus everyone has a solid opportunity to scope out how bad everyone else's stretch marks are and see whether they too are wearing absurdly unattractive underpants. And they were!

The skinny, well-dressed woman had the same ones as me but in a different color. But so did the woman in a dun-colored headscarf who had had arrived with neither ankle nor wrist on display. And so did the other girl, who had (rather sweetly, I thought) come in to check whether she was actually in labor (The answer was YES, that lucky bitch, whom we all ogled with fear and envy as she was escorted out in a cloud of encouraging incantations and breathing exercises). So, in case you were wondering, all nine-month-pregnant women wear the same underpants. Science, you're welcome.

And speaking of labor and other ungainly transitions, then there was this tree. I was walking down the hill from the clinic when I brushed shoulders with this fat cluster of leaves that was hanging from above, like a glow worm on a thread. At first I thought it was dangling near my head because some giant limb above was about to snap off (so, terror) but actually, it was just hanging on a 20-foot, noodle-like branch that was hanging from another saggy branch.

It was just a lazy ass branch. It couldn't be bothered to stand up, but it also couldn't let go. The image was as pregnant as a simile, and though I wasn't sure which I filmed it.