When I got my paycheck last Friday I toggled between my online shopping carts at Forever21 and Amazon. Books? Clothes. Clothes? Books. Books won. I ordered five books for $50 dollars from Amazon. The first four should arrive today or tomorrow. I’m excited.
Five months ago my money would have gone to Forever21. Clothes would have beat books like scissors cut paper in Rochambeau. My penchant for fashion hasn’t disappeared completely but my need for new threads has. The only clothes I’ve purchased in the past few months have been for the gym. On the horizon: new running shoes.
Two weeks ago I returned to work from lunch to hear exclaims of “Congratulations!” One of our coworkers had announced she was pregnant. I love pregnant women. I find the toothpick-swallowed-a-watermelon look adorable. I remain in awe of the capabilities of the female form and I went home at the end of the day thinking about babies.
Last Friday at a company meeting she had to excuse herself to pee every ten minutes. She confessed she was losing weight and couldn’t stand the sight of food. She was getting up three times a night already to use the bathroom. The kid wasn’t even here yet and already her sleep cycle was being interrupted. After work, I met my boyfriend at the movies. I laid my head on his shoulder happy it was just the two of us.
It’s a bizarre and oddly sobering moment when you realize the libidinous urge you had to have or accomplish something has utterly evaporated. I once desperately wanted babies with blue eyes and blond hair. I once enjoyed reading InStyle, Marie Claire, and Elle. Now I am content to read the Wall Street Journal, The New Yorker, The Week and my newly ordered books.
It seems as though things have taken a turn for the serious and I’m not really sure how I feel about it yet.
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