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Issue 18: Like a Pregnant Matryoshka Doll (Sung to the Tune of "Rhinestone Cowboy")

In which I have decided to abandon my career in favor of concocting large batches of pimento cheese a

Woman About the Internet

December 1 · Issue #18 · View online
I am a writer, mother, and decent human being living in Seattle, Washington. My monthly newsletter pairs perfectly with the everyday and the End of Days. I think you're swell.

In which I have decided to abandon my career in favor of concocting large batches of pimento cheese and writing punchy copy for the Ovia Pregnancy Tracker, my best friend and sworn enemy.

I won’t deny that my life is managed by a series of apps that feed, clothe, and transport me safely from work to home and back again. My pregnancy is now being micromanaged by Ovia, the pregnancy app that sends me patronizing pep talks (see below), ominous warnings, and thrilling facts. 
Today I coughed so violently I threw up in the kitchen sink and have both the skin and emotional stability of a hormonal 15 year old but I'm honored to be on this journey with you, Ovia.
For every reminder to double down on omega-3s and that the baby is the size of a pomegranate, there’s a notification explaining that this fetus I’m currently harboring already has ovaries with eggs. 
Ovaries. With eggs. Stored in my uterus for safekeeping. I am a veritable nesting doll. 
It's all in the delivery, Ovia.
Constantly having an anonymous bot remind me that I am a sacred vessel only fuels my lust for the things I cannot have. My first official OBGYN appointment was a group session, during which us pregnant women and our partners were herded into a circle and given a crash course in how to navigate insurance benefits, what not to consume, and genetic testing.  I was handed a photocopied sheet outlining mercury levels in seafood. While I don’t normally thirst for marlin and have never run across a tilefish in my life, you’d better believe I looked it up immediately.
Moments in which I have already questioned my ability to parent my future child:
  1. When I googled “acrylic nails safe while pregnant?” 
  2. When I googled “Brazilian blowout safe while pregnant?” 
  3. When my acrylic nail popped off at Trader Joe’s while reaching for the last package of frozen shumai, sending a single gleaming tip soaring into the depths of the frosty appetizer shelf, never to be seen again.
  4. When I left my keys in the door overnight, only to find them in the morning and exclaim, “well! Looks like we didn’t get murdered in our sleep!”
  5. When I googled “how much shrimp per week poison pregnant?” 
Speaking of which, will one of you come over and make me a batch of pimento cheese shrimp and grits? The door is wide open. 
Squad goals courtesy of Garden & Gun.
I love you and you are deserving of great things.
xo Drew
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Some of my other writing lives here. If you’d like to follow me on Instagram, you can do so right here. I also hang out on Twitter.
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