*THIS POST PROBABLY CONTAINS TMI*

This morning I woke up with half the amount of eyelashes I woke up with yesterday. (#iwokeuplikethis #sohot) Why, you ask? Well, apparently the pollen count is high. I’m not even entirely sure what that means but I do know for this first time in the history of my life, I’m suffering from allergies – and I refuse to believe it’s my mascara because that would just be cruel. Since this is my second rodeo, I know exactly who to blame – Seth. But actually I know it’s just the beginning of my body’s downward spiral to recovery, also known as postpartum.

Having a baby is great – it’s a blessing, just short of a miracle – but the side effects are fucking unnecesary. I just spent 10 months of my life growing a tiny (handsome) human being, my skin was stretched to a point of no return, my organs were compressed up into my chest and my ribs were bruised from all the commotion. OH and said tiny human’s noggin was the size of a regulation beach ball, so I also had to have my abdomen sliced open and pulled apart in order to meet him. I now get out of bed like the hunch back of Notrê Dame, my feet are a half size bigger and, to top it off, I’m pale AF and have been sober for-ev-er.

Yeah. So, I don’t think it’s unreasonable to believe in my heart of hearts that us ladies have gone through enough when that baby (finally) arrives. BUT you know what? Science or God or whatever doesn’t agree with me – and it’s complete fucking crap.

I swear the minute Abbott was tugged out of my body, I suddenly had the worst BO any nose has ever smelled. And you know what? It hasn’t gone away. I smell. It’s sick. I get in the shower, scrub my armpits until I feel like I’ve scrubbed my skin off and they still smell. Cry! Deodorant doesn’t work but that doesn’t stop me from carrying a clinical grade stick with me at all times just in case I get an inkling that someone in my vicinity is under the impression that I don’t care about my hygiene. BECAUSE I DO CARE. It’s almost all I can think about. I’m constantly strategically moving away when people get too close and I’ve been walking everywhere at a snail’s pace so as to prevent anyone from catching a “whiff”. HOW IN THE….Wtf. The whole thing is ridiculous.

My posture and the state of my back is a whole other issue that, honestly, terrifies me. I’m like a vitamin-C-deficient baby Benjamin Button – but seriously. Am I going to be like this forever? A couple weeks ago I was carrying the carseat into the grocery store and BANG, out went my back for the first time ever. It was the weirdest sensation and me trying to get us home, maneuvering through rush hour traffic without a functioning back was one of scariest things I’ve ever done – and I’ve done a lot of stupid shit that would scare a normal person. Between waddling, not being able to bend over without assistance for two months, the weird postures of breastfeeding and all of the bending and lifting and bending and lifting and bending, my posture/back health is a serious concern. But should it have to be?!  (PS. Lift. with. your. knees. Lift. with. your. knees.)

Now, back to my eyelashes (or lack thereof), at this rate they’ll be gone by the end of the week. Which – whatever – I’m sure since I won’t have them to protect my eyes, soon particles will embed themselves into my eyeballs and I’ll be partially blind before Spring. Does that sound dramatic? It might – but at this point, I’m not putting it past anyone/anything. I’m just hoping they’re back before I start balding – because that’s coming. It happened with my first and it was just as sudden – I went to bed one night and woke up with ginormous patches of scalp and tiny baby hair on both sides of my head. I mean, there was nothing I could do. And it didn’t start growing back until I got knocked up again, so we’ll see how that goes because I’m 100000000% not getting pregnant, ever again. Oh well, if anything I’ll hit up my girl Kim Biermann, formerly Kim Zolciak of RHATL, for one of those high-end wigs.

Ugh. Anyway, I know me well enough to know I’m heading to nowhere good, so….

Post Partum balding is so cute

 I’ll just leave you with this beaut. ^

Next up, my plug for ladies Rogaine.

Followed by a pissed-off post about its side effects.