Today's Post Brought To You By Oxygen Deprivation

Water boarding, Schmater boarding.

If you really want to torture someone, give them about 3/4 the oxygen that they need to survive, and then tell them they're expected to shower, shave their legs, blow-dry, AND flat-iron their hair.

THAT...my friends...is truly torture for someone who is 29-some-odd weeks pregnant with twins.
This pregnancy has caused routine exercises in basic hygiene to become a marathon event. Half-way through applying lotion to my poor nicked and cut legs (because I access them properly for shaving purposes to shave my life), I swear to god I had to douse my face with a dixie cup of water to regain consciousness.

And don't even ask me why I got so dizzy blow-drying my hair that I literally had to plop my naked butt down on the bathroom floor before I threw up and passed out. Last time I checked, hair styling wasn't an olympic event, so there should have been no need for a pit-stop. But that's what pregnancy does to you. Or, to me, at least.

Let me let you in on a little secret:
You know that "pregnancy glow" everyone talks about? It's really the sheen of sweat that precedes hypoxia
And I know I swore that I would never complain (in excess) about this pregnancy, considering it took us years and lots of physician-patient awkwardness and a couple of procedures involving sharp, pointy things in my hoo-hah to get here. But that was before I really understood what it's like to experience the non-stop, day-in, day-out, nothing-you-can-do-about-it-because-all-medications-are-off-limits symptoms of being knocked up.
I mean, for chrissake! when I asked my OB about my severe oxygen deprivation, he pretty much just said, "Yeah, that sucks." and I am not even kidding about that. The inability to breathe - like all pregnancy symptoms - is apparently something that must just be endured.

I'm like a modern-day martyr. Except instead of eternal heavenly bliss, all I get is hemorrhoids.

Now, all I can say is thank sweet, candy-coated Jesus that I'm getting twins out of the deal, because that whole "one pregnancy per kid" deal is a total scam.

Brian keeps talking about maybe trying again for a girl.
And I'm all, "sure, that sounds great. But this time, why don't YOU carry the kid in your body for 9 months, okay?"

Because - while I'd LOVE to have a little girl to dress in tu-tus and play My Little Ponies with...
...I'm just not sure I can take another slow death by asphyxia to get one.