Harmony

As my wardrobe begin to cease blood circulation, I decided it was time. Purge. Sniffle. It was my time to face the music. Sob. I began to remove the items that were inappropriate for my pregnancy. I began to slide my goal items i.e. mid riff and relinquishing my early twenties into the past. This was healthy for me. It was my last farewell to my foolery. It was time to fess up and act my age. Now, grow the hell up.

I folded my clothing that delusionally kept me hanging on. "Change is always good," I remind myself trying to maintain a positive attitude. As my belly hasn't popped outward, the buttons and zippers on my pants are telling me different. As I neatly fold my clothing, I wonder to myself if I'll ever fit into my designer jeans again. I am slightly ill with the idea that maybe that setting sun shall never set. I'm scared. The sight of stretch marks. The future of saggy boobs. As DJ Hughley, Kings of Comedy, once said, "Women they're always worried about their bodies. They're nails. Shit! Stretch marks, soppy titties, bad nails never stopped a man from wanting to have sex with a woman." In those words, I find motivation and inspiration. Regardless, Shane is stuck with my stretch marks and soppy titties till death do us part. Chuckle.

On the brighter side of the moon, most of my friends that are moms have dropped significant weight when nursing and have maintained to keep it off. Maxine, Meaghan and Zaachila look phenomenal! Can I be so fortunate! There's a little faith that I can keep in my pocket. Regardless, I have to remind myself to expect nothing. Subsequent to giving birth, will I be concerned with weight? Will I be so preoccupied with the infant that I would take on the persona of a slob? Are my concerns simply superficial? Is my need to self preserve just short for selfish? I just don't find a reason to let myself go, if I don't have to. Sometimes fate just has it in for you from the start.

Shellie's Proverb: A slug with no motivation wouldn't get it anywhere.
One refrigerator box load of clothes and an hour later, my closet and my two dressers were cohesive. Uncluttered. Neat. Although to any other person it would remain to be seen as just a hunk of clothes. Shrug, I can't help it, I'm a sucker to fashion. As my Virgo reared it's organized brain from under the shrubbery, I psychotically began to take on the tidal project of the living room. Our living room and dining room that sheltered our clutter of knick knacks, artwork, guitar, paper work. How it got to this point all falls on me. Since we were moving out soon, it would be productive to get the packing party started. I couldn't see past the medley of junk that orchestrated this madness. I was riding hard on my Zen wave. Needless to say Shane was pleased to see my motivation in cleanliness as a rarity. Myriads of piles heaped up in the middle of the room consisting of donations, trash, filing, and photos. This was a video camera moment, as I am not a typical Virgo, this was my eclipse.

Later that night, we sat on our couch admiring the simplicity. The absence of the rubbish really brought sparkle to our home. The candles brought a blanket of warmth to our surrounding. It was cozy. In the grand scheme of things, I was making room for the baby mentally and physically. "Do you think we can keep it like this?" Shane inquired. "I don't know," I chuckled, "but we can always try." For the first time in a long time, I felt a sense of fulfillment. A well rounded sense of accomplishment overwhelmed my soul.

Lesson: A Grasshopper must always give in to the way of the wind to live in harmony.