Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Clogs Can Be Sexy...Right?

I'm back from Chicago, where I basked in the company of two of my best friends, saw a comedy performance at Second City, had high tea at a fancy hotel, slept in a different fancy hotel, felt a bit vertiginous at the top of the John Hancock building, did a little window shopping, had my toenails painted a color called "Vanessa," ate too much delicious food, and had a tiny (but wildly disgusting and a little upsetting) relapse of "morning" sickness in the middle of one night. It turns out the baby-in-the-making isn't as big a fan of truffle oil as I am.

It also turns out that even a city as tidy as Chicago (and DAMN is that city litter-free—I saw ONE wadded-up kleenex on the ground the whole time I was there, and it may well have come from my own pocket)—even a tidy Midwestern city smells really gross when you're (I'm) pregnant. It wasn't as bad as, say, New Orleans, but it was considerably worse than, say, rural north Texas.

As I suspected, no one called the pregnant lady a MILF—which was probably all for the best but still a little disappointing. Even pregnant ladies want to feel wanted, you know? Even in our soft-knit plumpness-showing spandexy skirts and puffy coats that don't close and sensible clogs to keep our feet from aching—even we want someone to convince us we're still hot—or at least really, really, really warm.

photo courtesy kevinrosseel, morgueFile


  1. Oooh Vanessa. That sounds sassy.

  2. Right? The only Vanessa I've ever known was a rich, flirty girl in elementary school whose dad owned all the best restaurants in town...

  3. I am super jealous of your vacation. We went to Chicago about 4 years ago and visited second city. It was one of my favorite nights Taylor and I have ever had. So much fun!