Friday, April 5, 2013

Pink or Blue


My older sister just had a pink or blue party, and when she cut into the cake, the pink cake mix revealed that she was having a little girl.

 

Aw, isn’t it cute how some people’s pink or blue parties work out?

 

Mine didn’t.

 

When pink or blue parties became all the rage around the time I was pregnant with my second son, my husband and I felt like we owed him some kind of a cool story since so far, all he’d gotten was to hear me say, “This sucks so bad.  Pregnancy blows,” over and over in utero.  In fact, the hubs told me to make sure I said that as soon as the baby popped out so that he knew he was in the right place.

 

I e-mailed a few friends with instructions:

 

Listen, bitches. I’m about halfway through this misery, and even though I can’t drink beer or smoke ciggies or bleach my hair brittle, I CAN eat cake since—thank the good Lord in Heaven for the sweet blessings that He pours on us from above—I haven’t gotten a case of the godforsaken gestational diabetes, no matter how many bowls of Reese’s-topped chocolate ice cream with syrup I’ve eaten. 

 

So don’t ruin it for me, assholes.  Come over and wear pink if you think the baby will be a girl or blue if you think the baby will be a boy.  (Holy shit, I can’t believe I had to explain that.  I need some new friends because you guys are stupid.)  Oh, and there will be pizza and even beer for those of you who are allowed to drink it—and are prepared to receive the old stink eye and endure shouts of “You’re DRINKING in front of me?  You asshole!” from cheerful preggy over here.

 

Looking forward to seeing you all!  Blessings!

 

I was a teensy bit of an asshole when I was pregnant.  Even worse than usual.

 

Shockingly, I had several attendees at the party.  I think they just enjoyed seeing me miserable, since I normally totally enjoyed seeing all of them miserable in different facets of their lives. You get what you give, I guess, dammit.

 

At this point, I still looked cute.  (Remind me to tell you about the severe case of reverse body dysmorphia I had later in the pregnancy, when the adorable way I thought I looked certainly wasn’t meshing with what others were seeing.)  Although I’d always wanted boys, I had dressed in a pair of pink yoga pants and a white ruched maternity shirt, because isn’t that always the way?  If you want a boy, you’d better bet your fat pregnant ass you’re having a girl.  I figured I might as well just succumb to it.

 

When Mom and Dad walked through the door, my dad sized me up.

 

“Dammit, I wore the wrong color,” he said immediately, grabbing his bag to pull out a blue shirt and change.

 

“What do you mean, you wore the wrong color?” I asked, eyeing the striped pink shirt he had on.

 

“Your ass is huge—way too big for you to be having a girl,” my dad explained.  “Women carry it all in their asses if it’s a boy.  Wanda, look at her ass.  What do you think?”  (My mom’s name is not Wanda, but since I am anonymous and have to make one up anyway, I thought I’d have fun with it.)

 

“Oh, I don’t know, Herschel,” my mom replied, pushing Dad aside to get a better view of my apparent monstrosity of an ass.  “It’s no bigger than normal…”  (Oh my gosh, I’m having so much fun with these names.  I think I’ll make my older sister Bertha.)  (My sincere apologies to any Wandas, Herschels, or Berthas I’m offending out there.) 

 

My sister Bertha came to stand beside my mom and dad.  “Yeah, Mom’s right.  Shay’s skinny, but her gut and her ass have always been too big for her frame.  Her hips, too,” she added, nodding her head as she took her turn looking me up and down.

 

I’d had enough.  “Alright, assholes, that’s it!  THAT.IS.IT!” I yelled.  “Should we go around and point out everyone else’s fat areas?  Should we, Your Fatnesses?”  My voice had grown shrill, and “fatnesses” had come out so high that I wasn’t even sure a dog could hear it.  I also wasn’t sure I’d used the right word (Should it have been “fatnessi”?), but I was pretty sure that they wouldn’t notice.

 

But my family had heard what I’d said.  And they had the decency to look shamefaced, all of them casting their eyes toward the floor as they thought with regret about how awful they’d been to me.

 

Okay, no they didn’t. They so totally did not do all of that eye-casting and feeling bad stuff.  That was actually what would have happened in the dreams of the family I wished I’d gotten.

 

Instead, my real family started laughing, and I think it was Wanda who said, “Go ahead and start pointing out our fat areas.  They still won’t be as bad as yours are right now!”

 

Big bunch of assholes.

 

But it gets better. 

 

We sat down to cut the cake, family and friends surrounding us, waiting with bated breath to see if we were having a boy or a girl.  And when I helped my older son push the cake-cutter through the frosting, we saw…PINK!

 

“Aw, shit,” my husband muttered.

 

There was silence, but only until I started crying. It’s not like I wasn’t happy.  Sure, I’d wanted all boys, but I’d be happy with a girl, too.  It’s just that all of these feelings that I hadn't even realized I had bubbled to the surface.  “A girl?!” I wailed.  “Is this God’s idea of a cruel joke?  We have horrible genes!  I only just started learning how to cover them…how am I going to help my little girl learn to overcome this DNA?  Is it even legal to bleach a newborn’s hair?”

 

I flipped open my laptop to google that question as my mom, dad, and older sister looked on in stunned silence.  They understood.  Honestly, we’re a pretty good-looking bunch, but it takes LOTS of work.  Like, hours. 

 

At least the boys of the family—well, they get the ugly gene, too, but only for about 15 years, after which they blossom into gorgeous, sought-after men.  The girls in our family…well, our noses just keep getting bigger and our faces horsier (at least in my case).  And I didn’t want that for my little girl.

 

All of this was running through my head as our guests stared at that pink filling in stunned silence.  You could have heard a pin drop—I mean, if there had been anyone there working on a needlepoint project who had happened to drop a pin—when the hubs’s eyes lit up with a thought.

 

“Maybe she’ll look like me,” he said soothingly as he rubbed my back.

 

Turns out it didn’t matter, my peeps.  Because the cake lady had been wrong.  That’s right, she’d made the wrong color cake mix.

 

When the hubs decided to check the second envelope that my  undiagnosed-OCD ass had insisted the ultrasound tech give to us, too, the paper clearly said BOY.

 

“Told you,” my Dad supplied helpfully, digging into his piece of cake with a knowing nod at my ass.

 

My second son will never have even the smallest doubt that he’s loved.  Because my older sister Bertha caught it on tape when my husband cut a piece of cake and hoisted his beer up in a toast, saying, “Good.  I didn’t want a girl, anyway.”

 

I’d say my second son has a pretty good story, at least, wouldn’t you? 

 

I would love, love, love to hear any funny experiences you’ve had with pink or blue parties—or even just ideas on how to throw a good one.  Because obviously millions of readers from around the world come to Trashy Blog for ideas on how to throw an appropriate theme party.  (Riiiiiiiiiiiiight.)  But seriously, so many variations of the original pink or blue cake party have arisen (balloons in a box, for example), that it would be cool to hear yours!

 

And since that send-off was just a little too peppy for a blog like this, let me just add one thing to carry you through the weekend:  SUCK IT. 

 

Hey, peeps, I have an image to uphold.  I can’t be going all soft.

 

26 comments:

  1. My ass got SMALLER when I was pregnant with my son. Also, you should announce the gender with Beaver Babies, duh!

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    1. Of COURSE!! Beaver Babies. I wish I'd have known Kim when I was doing my party. That would have been awesome.

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  2. I never found out what my oldest was until he came out with a penis. And my youngest, I knew was a girl because she caused me nothing but problems throughout my pregnancy. No funny cake stories for me, but yours is kind of awesome, and I wonder if your family would consider adopting me?

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    1. I don't think you'd want them, really...:) Seriously, though, they're awesome--they don't take life too seriously and that's why they don't mind that I write this blog making them look like huge assholes. I mean, they ARE assholes, but not as big of assholes as I like to let on. :)

      Your girl comment--too cute. I'm sure she was worth every ounce of trouble!

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  3. That is hilarious!!! I always wondered what happens when the babycomes out different than what the party said it was!

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    1. Everyone just stood there, staring at each other b/c they didn't know what to do. Then I burst into laughter and couldn't stop. I really did cry--but they were actually happy tears from the emotion of finding out I was having a girl...then a boy. I really don't know what I was crying about, to tell you the truth. Haha. But when we realized the cake was wrong, we laughed our asses off. Just too good of a story. :)

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  4. I'm throwing a shower for someone who already knows she's having a girl- I hate pink. Like seriously hate pink. Was over the moon when I found out she's not a fan. Had visions of a theme of tattoos and biker babes (her style) but apparently she wants the cute girly frilly version, just not in pink.

    Oh well. I'll vomit after.

    And yes, your son has the way best story!

    :)

    ~Anita
    http://losingaustin.blogspot.com

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    1. Anita--there's a girl in one of my mom's groups that makes the biker-type cute stuff for little girls. If I had a girl, she'd totally be in some of that stuff! But I bet I would succumb to a lot of the frilly pinks, too. It's not my style, but dammit if that stuff isn't SO cute! :)

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  5. I've never heard of these parties before! In the beginning I only wanted boys...my first was a boy, then came along a girl...then another girl...and I started freaking out because I REALLY wanted another boy. Back then the big thing going around was the boy/girl diet that you had to do religiously a month before trying to conceive. I knew 9 women who did it, and all 9 got the sex gender child they wanted. I followed it to the tee and hell yeah, I got my 2nd boy. I dreamed of going for a 5th child, but you just read my latest post about him,, so you understand why I stopped having anymore kids after him---that little hellion could have been a poster child for birth control! This was a cute post--you have now educated me on the pink & blue parties so that I am prepared for this with the rest of my future grandkids....

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  6. I was going to say Beaver Babies! Thanks Jenn! Actually, using Beaver Babiesfir gender reveal parties was Jenn's idea! Disgusting genius!

    So let me get this straight...the first person who knows the sex of your baby is the lady at Cakes R Us? Really? And she got it wrong? It's like a 50/50 thing right? Did you get a discount?

    And I did have a fat ass and diabetes with my son. And I would have with my daughter too, but luckily I found about exercise and shit.

    I hate surprises, so we found out at the ultrasounds.


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    1. The ultrasound tech knew, and she wrote it down on two separate pieces of paper and put them into two different envelopes--one for us and one for the cake lady. So yes, the cake lady knew before us. Or she thought she did, but she was wrong. :) And we didn't have to wait long. I couldn't want to find out, either, so we had the ultrasound on like a Wednesday and the party the following Sunday--or something like that.

      Oh, and I worked out like a motha all throughout my pregnancy and didn't even eat much! I didn't even feel pregnant, so I wasn't any hungrier than usual. I mean, I was eating ice cream, but that was only replacing my mugs of beer, so no extra calories there. Haha. Nothing mattered, though--my body was determined to gain that weight. I gained 45 pounds. It took me 13 months to get back to pre-pregnancy weight, and I started running again only 2 weeks after giving birth. I think some of us girls are just lucky like that...argh. :)

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    2. She never found out that she got it wrong. I swore my family and friends to secrecy b/c I didn't want her to feel bad. She was a really nice lady, and really, I kind of owe her one for the story. I wouldn't have had it go any other way. Haha

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  7. Hahah! Women carry it in their asses? Your dad sounds freaking awesome. You are bloody hilarious.

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    1. He is freaking awesome. And by the way, I just stopped over to your blog and I'm still laughing out loud. You crack me up.

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  8. I've never even heard of a pink or blue party, and now I feel pissed I didn't get to have one.

    But I couldn't do with the "let's wait and see" BS, so we found out at the ultrasound.

    Please invite me to your next family function - I think it would be a riot! HA!

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    1. You are more than welcome to come to any family function, Dani Ryan! I'd like to say they'd be weary of the two of us bloggers as we sat and took notes over all the stupid shit they'd say/do, but when they know I'm doing that, they actually crank up the stupid on purpose. Gotta love 'em. :)

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  9. Where have I been? Under a rock? I've never heard of these cakes or parties! I feel deprived. Although not enough to go and have another child. I relate all too well to the ass thing. It happened to me too. I actually had people ask me to turn around, so they could look at my ass to make a prediction about the sex of my baby. When is it ever ok to ask a woman if you can look at her ass? NEVER!

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    1. I won't even ask a woman when the baby is due unless that baby is crowning. :)

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  10. Ok here I am at Panera laughing so hard I'm crying, and the little knitting party sitting next to me clearly thinks I'm bonkers! Wanda Herschel and BERTHA??!! You can't even get the religions right! Wanda is so white, Hershcel is so Jewish, well BERTHA??? Come on!
    AND THE FATNESS CRAP??!!! Holy hell lady! I love you, you crack my fat ass up! AND I have never ever ever heard of a pink or blue party, so I guess I'm a dumbass too.

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    1. Thanks for that! Your comment made me laugh out loud, too--especially the breakdown of the names. I did have a little too much fun with that, didn't I? Bertha is just any random old person's name, I think. That's why my sister got it. She's not that old, but she is two years older than I am, so I always rub it in. :)

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  11. Another hilarious piece from you, my friend! I would have FREAKED OUT if this happened to me. Especially because I wanted a girl. If the idiot from the bakery had toyed with my emotions like that and promised me a girl instead of the boy I was actually having, I would have seen her ass in Judge Judy's chambers! Your use of the word asshole just brightens up my whole day ;)

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    1. Thank you! And asshole is one of my favorite words, so I'm glad it brightens your day as much as it does mine. :) I hope everyone in your house is finally feeling better, by the way!

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  12. Great story! Ours was basically like yours, but after we revealed we were having a boy, half my family spent the rest of the party telling the hubby it would probably be a girl, cuz sometimes they're wrong. (also cuz they're assholes and they were being haters(the hubby insisted I add)cuz the hubby knew it was a boy from day one)

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  13. I think you've swapped names along the way... I'm sure you use 'Wanda' for your older sister in the blog about when she came to the hospital in little pink shorts? No matter though - everything you write is bloody hilarious, even if I should have been asleep hours ago (it's three am where I live, Tasmania Australia!). Love your blog :-)
    Kristy

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    1. Kristy!! Thank you for this! It's hilarious that you noticed that because just today I was drafting a post about something my family did, and I could not remember for the life of me what I had used for my sister. And--guess what--in this newest draft, I used "Wanda" for her again! Haha. I was too lazy to pull up my blog and look back on all the old posts and see what I used for her. I will have to switch out the name that I used for her in the newest post--or else maybe I'll keep Wanda and just start calling my mom Bertha. Thanks for paying attention--and thanks for reading!!

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