Orange County Moms Blog

I'd like my AA-Cups back now, please.

Boobs. Some people love them, obsess over them... can't get enough of them. PAY to get them alarmingly large!

And me? I just can't stand them. I never in a million years thought I'd say I wouldn't enjoy having a large bosom, but please take these from me as soon as possible.

I'm pregnant with my third child, and we all know that what comes with territory of child bearing comes growing gazongas. My first trimester I didn't change size at all. In fact, that's probably why I had no idea I was pregnant until the 10th week! But once I hit my second trimester, it was game over for me. My athletic, size zero body sporting very manageable AA-Cups grew 10 inches in waist and four cup sizes in a matter of 7 weeks!

The belly I can deal with, the melons I can't. Who likes these things? It's nearly impossible for me to find a bra that fits correctly since I have a small rib cage, and these suckers are heavy (no pun intended)! Since I can't find a proper fitting bra that costs less than $75 in a 30-32 D, I'm dealing with lovely back and shoulder pain that is honestly tolerable, but more a nuisance than anything else. But seriously, if you had a choice... would you want gigantic milk maids on your chest?

Mom vs. the not so Itsy Bitsy Spider

"Moommmmmmy!"  I knew that plaintive call anywhere. A kid, one I gave birth to, was in trouble. I bounded out the door and into the front yard. There was my youngest daughter, white with fright, standing rigidly next to the garage, afraid to move. "Sp-Spider!" she said by way of explanation.

I am not Supermom. But sometimes this message doesn't get into my brain. It especially Does Not Compute if it involves protecting one of my offspring. I am the Motherboard, after all. I make it all run.exe. (or start, if you are Mac user, like me) "Spider" it turns out was a black widow hiding underneath a pipe by the corner of the house. In the face of the terror of my littlest one, I sprang into action. Instead of letting my husband, he of the Awesome Tech Support and Killer of Creepy Crawlies handle it, I grabbed a bottle of hair spray and went out the door to prove that I am more than just fantastically gorgeous, sexy and a bitchen writer. I am also: She Who Kills Spiders. I need a disclaimer here...I don't kill spiders. Call me a pacifist, or just too soft-hearted, either works. I catch spiders and put them outside, the poor things. But when it comes to venomous arachnids and children? All bets are off, and it WILL die.

The first thing I noticed was that the thing I was set to dispatch was frickin' HUGE. She was as big as my thumb. I'm also fairly certain she was glaring at me. I didn't take a picture, because, well, be honest, would you want to read this and see that monstrosity staring back at you? No, me either! She clearly was quite settled where she was, and wasn't intent on relocation, especially not to the Big Web in the Sky, because when I sprayed her with the hairspray, I think she grinned at me, and retreated deeper into the crevice from whence she came. Thinking hair spray was going to freeze her was clearly wrong, she was probably in front of her Spider Mirror doing her hair! Part of the problem is that in an attempt to be more environmentally-friendly, we don't have Aqua Net or any of those aerosol-type sprays in this house. The only spray available was my daughter's year-old cheap Suave pump spray, left over from her theatre production. Probably not the best weapon against a Widow from Hell.

This was war.