The other day I saw my doc who was surprised and concerned by my continued weight loss. I'm 15 weeks now, and whatever holiday buzz had me so optimistic through December is gone leaving me feeling thoroughly 1st trimester. Mix in a bout of good old fashioned stomach flu and I'm dangerously dehydrated and down to my skinny twit high school weight. Doc was not happy. I was beside myself.
I had a little pity party that night. As I lay prostrate and wallowing on the couch Wham! I felt the baby move for the first time. Amazing. Nothing like a little internal kick in the ass to get things going. So, I've been put on a new eating mandate, a new nutritional plan, and have decided to try my best to make lovely things inspired by all of this. After all, isn't that the whole point?
This most recent paper play is actually the 2nd in a sort of series. The first went to my mom who pouted a little over having not received a frame-able cut paper piece for Christmas. They both deal with hybrids with loaded skirts that escape through the chest/throat. The correlation is pretty obvious, though I've yet to vomit caged songbirds. It's out of character for me to make such personal work, but it's pleasant and maybe therapeutic, and hopefully I'll have something to show that this viking pregnancy did more than pillage.
Darth Vapor Strikes Again (And Again)
1 day ago