Today we had a baby shower for a young mother-to-be at work. Her name is Aanal and she is one of only 10 other women that work with me. The remaining 50+ employees are either men, trolls, executives, sasquatches, amoebas, or my boyfriend.
While I may have been born with breasts and ovaries, the womanhood stops there. Here's where I become a total freak to my kind:
1. I think chocolate is pretty much disgusting and anything with chocolate flavor is horrific. May as well hand me rotten fish and ask me to eat it.
2. I think having babies is parasitic. Up until my 30s, I also considered it socially reprehensible.
3. I don't care about brand names and find designer handbags insulting to my intelligence.
4. I can't stand romantic comedies, "Sex in the City" and any glamor-type magazine.
So can you guess who came to this Baby Shower 100% unprepared? Yep. I forgot a gift, but at least now I know what Aanal is missing since I watched her open gifts from every other person. I was not able to offer any words of mothering advice, having had ZERO pregnancies of my own. When it came to baby charades, I was stuck with Lamaze. And when someone else was acting out how to tuck a baby into a car seat, I audibly guessed she was putting her baby into the refrigerator. Yes, really.
I also ate exaclty 0% of the chocolate cake.
I don't mean to be a bad person. Aanal is one of the kindest women I have ever worked with. She's having a little boy and I found out today that in India, it's illegal to find out the sex of the baby in advance. I am strangely intrigued by this and now I need to know why. Aanal was so excited at the shower: she'd never even BEEN to a shower before. She's also a very NEW mom with her entire family back in India. I want to give her something meaningful AND helpful. She's not registered anywhere because, well, this whole thing is outside of her experience. And mine. What should I get her and her new son? He arrives on the scene in a month.
To top it off, this week has not been easy for me. Work projects pushing me way outside my comfort zone. Too much alone time. Frightful dreams, like the one where a lioness ripped my arm off, like chicken meat sliding off a drumstick. And today marks the six-month anniversary of me and Jim deciding that yes, we really do just like one another. And no one else.
But today would also have been Jim's five-year wedding anniversary. So as happy as I am for the date for us, the milestone and all the great memories, I feel ... second. And it's just me. It's just me fixating on things I have no power to change or control.
After quick drinks and eats at The Met Grill, Jim dashed to catch his bus. I stood outside the restaurant, watching him literally run down the street until he caught up to his bus. He sent me a text telling me he loved me and I sent one back. Then I came home and soaked my befuddled XXY-chromosome body in a hot bath, thinking of why I can't feel FIRST. Why I don't let myself. What's holding me back?
Anyway, I could sure use a baby gift idea and a romantic comedy right now. A pedicure wouldn't hurt either.
