Okay, apparently this is when a woman is pregnant, but no woman I’ve ever known would describe herself as in a delicate condition when they’re knocked up. They may be hysterically hormonal or ready to eat your face or going back and forth between unbelievably horny or clinically depressed anywhere from 6 to 16 times a day, but they wouldn’t be what one would describe as ‘delicate’. Yes there’s morning sickness (or as Miranda says on Sex and the City, ‘Mourning sickness, as in mourning the loss of your single life’), but that doesn’t really make a woman delicate. It makes her upset, angry, and often a little crazy, but not delicate. Plus, if you’re praising the porcelain goddess (or whatever you want to call it) every day, you’re likely going to get used to it and just carry on with your regular day at work.
I suppose some women might be considered delicate by the outside world, but a pregnant woman is the definition of strong. She’s using her biological resources to nurture a fetus into a tiny human. That takes a lot out of a person. All your energy, food supply, nutrition etc goes to that fetus first. So no wonder women SEEM like they’re delicate. Really, they’re simply doing everything to support double the bodies.
When my sister was six months pregnant, she and I hiked a mountain together. Okay, it wasn’t the hugest hike and we took a gondola ride up most of it, but we still hiked the last part together. At one point I was going too fast (she was a little ways behind me) and I was a bit dehydrated (but mostly just out of shape), and when I stopped to catch my breath I got really dizzy and got a loud ringing in my ears and was positive I was going to throw up. I stumbled around for a moment, disoriented, feeling suddenly terrified that I might actually lose my footing and accidentally fall off the side of the mountain. My sister caught up to me a few minutes later. I had my head between my knees trying to get the ringing to stop and praying that the nausea would cease. My sister sat down beside me and stretched her arms, then she rubbed her hands along her large bulge of baby. ‘Gorgeous day, isn’t it?’ I couldn’t respond as I was too busy focusing on not spraying the mountainside with my vomit. After a couple of minutes in silence, she got up and stretched again. ‘Well, I’ll see you at the top’. Yeah. Not delicate, at all.
1. She’s….well, she’s….she’s in a delicate condition. Claire rolled her eyes. Ma, it’s no secret, just look at my giant belly. I’m knocked up okay? You don’t have to skirt around the issue with Grandma, it’s not like she can’t tell!
2. You’d be delicate too if you were in that condition. You know what I’m talking about. The pregnant kind.
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