


You thought I meant the four letter one, huh? Or the three letter one? Nope! I mean the word FEMINIST.
Most of the time, I love being a woman. In high school, my best friend and I would pore over the book Making Faces, spending hours crafting various looks from tubes of concealer and blushes and eyeshadows. We delighted in the feminine pursuit of shopping and finding clothes that flattered our bodies, made us feel confident, and brought a swing to our step. Even dating was in some ways an exercise in self-acceptance, as we quickly grew to realize what boys really did appreciate the fact that we loved aggressive girl-punk-rock, and which ones actually thought we were just silly girls.
Iāve always had a feminist edge, and Iām not ashamed to say Iām a feminist. Iām still shocked by something that happened to me in college: I was working on my Bachelorās degree in 2008 at Cal State Northridge, and we had a āwomen and men in the mediaā class. My teacher asked everyone in the class who was a feminist to raise their hands. Out of 32 students, one person raised their hand. That person was me. I couldnāt quite understand why being a feminist was seen as such a bad thing. In fact, one of my first boyfriends dumped me because I was a āfeminaziā because I told him that females could be DJs just like men, and he felt that DJs should only be male. My definition of feminist is somebody who values, respects, and appreciates that women should have the exact same rights as men. Iām not standing on street corners burning my bra or refusing to shave my legs (though quite frankly, if women want to do that, go for it. (And shaving your legs totally sucks, so I can see the appeal in that,). I once saw a quote that said that all people born from women should be feminists⦠and I agree.
As I near the end of my pregnancy, Iāve had some time to reflect on body image and beauty standards for women. When other people see you are pregnant, they feel they have a free pass to comment on your appearance as it now pertains to two people: you and a baby. Iām used to rude comments on my appearance as a woman of size, and thankfully while I donāt experience it often (apparently I ācarry it wellā, another thing I hear a lot), Iāve noticed that as I have just under 4.5 weeks to go, the comments about the size of my body, appearance, and bump are picking up. I also heard comments about my food choices in my early pregnancy, but anyone who dares comment on my dietary choices now might receive a swift kick to the head. I donāt want my daughter to be walking through the mall hearing teenage boys make āoinkā sounds behind her back. If she chooses to become pregnant one day, I also donāt want her to have to hear āWow, you still have four weeks to go? You look ready now!ā. I donāt want her to hear about the size of her breasts, how she has such a pretty face, or how things would be better āif onlyā she lost a little weight. However, Iāve accepted the sad reality that because she is female, she will hear these things. In Amyās Schumerās movie, Train Wreck, the main characterās sister shares that she found out her unborn baby is a girl. Amy shares her excitement and says something to the extent of āThatās wonderful!ā. Her sister immediately says āNo, itās not! Sheās totally screwed!ā and Amy says, āYeah, youāre right, sheās screwed.ā The actual dialogue in the movie is much more succinct, but basically the gist of the scene is, yeah, sheāsĀ a female, sheās already got a few challenges stacked against her just because of her gender. While I am thrilled to be having a baby girl, I admit I have some of the same hesitations. Iāve lived an amazing life thus far, but have I experienced sexism or problems because Iām female? You betcha. We all have⦠and Iām sure even men have experienced things that suck because theyāre guys.
Jennifer Weiner wrote this letter to her daughters, and it made me sniffle because it sums up so eloquently what I want my daughter to know. As weāre just weeks away from meeting her, I want her to know itās ok to be a girl. It’s ok to love the color pink, and it’s also okay to hate wearing a bra. Itās ok to be a feminist. Itās ok to question the status quo, to be angry that she may be reduced to her appearance rather than the sum of her parts. I havenāt even seen her yet and I know that she is beautiful, not because of what she looks like, but because of who she is. She will be courageous, and strong, and intelligent. She will be creative in her own ways, independent in her own ways, opinionated in her own ways. And she will grow up with a mom and dad that encourage her to be herself, and to raise her hand when a teacher asks if she is a feminist. And with any luck, hopefully she wonāt be the only person in the room to raise her hand.
My husband and I are very excited to share that in November, we’ll be parents! We enjoyed an awesome five years of marriage before deciding to expand our family, and now that we’re expecting, we’re over the moon. I’ll be sharing more on the blog later about what it will mean to have a plus-sized pregnancy (hint: nothing dramatic. With healthy eating and exercise, you can have a healthy, normal pregnancy — I have so far been lucky to have not gained a pound, and have felt great!), and how I ultimately made the decision to move forward with my life despite not reaching my goal with weight. But for now, I wanted to share a little bit about how we broke the news.
Matt and I went on a Caribbean cruise in mid-March, and thankfully, even though I was about eight weeks along, other than fatigue, I felt really good (I did miss my mojitos, though!). We decided to take a photo on the beach and write “Baby C” in the sand (See below). I’m wearing my weekly bump shirt that I made (thanks to my pal KJ Pugs), and two awesome gals on the beach helped us stage a mini photo shoot. Because we live eight hours away from our immediate family, we knew we’d have to break the news digitally to some people. Thankfully Matt’s Dad was coming down to visit, so we got to surprise him in person with a custom mug that says “Grandpa, Est. 11/15”.
We also got to tell my best friend and sister in person. I bought them aunt onesies, wrapped them in boxes, and had them both open the boxes at the same time. My sister screamed so loud and jumped up and down that I’m pretty sure the cats thought it was the apocolypse — it was awesome! Here she is right after hearing the news, and right after putting on her makeup (sorry, Ape! My timing was off on that!), hair still wet in a babushka.
Surprising my parents was a little bit more complex. We decided to have my sister print the photo from the cruise, and present it to my parents while we skyped them. You’ll hear my sister say we shipped the picture. Thanks to my awesome brother, we have this video of my mom’s insane reaction. (Back story: My mom has been annoyingly obsessed with becoming a Grandma since I was about 18 (not kidding!). She had to be sternly reminded several times that we would have kids when we were ready, and I always told her good things come to those who wait. See, Mom? It finally happened!) PS if you’re offended by F-bombs, do not watch this video because there are several of them! My favorite part is the dog jumping up and down with my mom.
I’d been trickling out the news slowly to family and friends, and as of today I’m 13.5 weeks pregnant and thanks to a detailed scan last week, we know that Baby C. looks great and is so far nice and healthy! (Please say a little prayer, send good thoughts, or make a wish on a dandelion that all continues to go well.) šĀ To pre-emptively answer a few questions I’ve been getting lately:
So that’s my news, Double Chinners! I’ll be back on the DCD more often now because, heck, I missed y’all, and even though my new blog is cool, DCD will always be my home. Thank you as always for your loyalty and time, and for reading my little old blog. I’m a pretty lucky gal! <3