Do I Look Fat With This?

So, I’ve never been one of those girls who would dare ask her significant other, “Do I look fat in this?” Mainly, because I expect an honest answer, and chances are, I probably do look fat in it. Instead, I have waited for the surprising squeeze of the tush, or a comment that remarks on my general fabulousness to lay to rest any self-doubts I may have. It has always seemed to work in my favor.

The difference between those times and now is a little thing, (ok, maybe not so little) called a pregnancy bump. Here’s the thing: I find pregnant women to be adorable. At least the ones you can actually tell are pregnant, and aren’t so overweight you dare not ask them when they’re due. I have also heard from multitudes of men and women that a lot of guys have a thing for pregnant women. (Somewhat creepy, of it’s not their own woman, but who can resist a pair of swollen breasts and a hard belly? Even if it is in the shape of a full-blown balloon?) When I first found out about my Babe, I thought to myself, “Well, I guess we’ll see if my Rockstar has a thing for pregnant women.”

Sadly, he does not. Like, not even a little bit. If my belly were a mini-fridge filled with Budweiser, I still don’t think that would be enough to get him to touch it. Sure, there’s been a few times during the night when he’s accidentally thrown an arm or hand over me carelessly. Apparently such an action trips a silent alarm that only he can hear, because even from a dead sleep, the offending appendage is quickly removed from it’s resting spot as though it’s a vat of acid.

Yeah, ok, I get it. “Pregnant chics aren’t a turn on of his.”- I quote his words. I guess it doesn’t matter one iota that it’s me who is the pregnant chic; the chic he used to do two and three times a night sometimes. Too, it seems to not matter that my ass or thighs have not grown to gargantuan proportions; in fact, I’ve gained exactly seventeen pounds in the last six months- and I’m wearing the exact same yoga pants without my butt bursting the seems. I don’t know if I “glow” as They say pregnant women do, but I even had a dude stop me in the mall, trying to get my digits. (After blatantly ogling my pregnant condition.)

I suppose I should be happy my Rockstar is trying to appease me in other ways. He has been quite amiable about my suggestions to go out to eat, (which he hates to do), and stays silent about the fact that I don’t roll outta bed until at least 8 am. But, alas. Such things do not make up for the lack of sex and affection that is the giant, glittery elephant in the room. (And just to be clear, I don’t know what you’ve heard about pregnant women and their libidos, but this pregnant woman’s libido is working overtime. And you thought I was a horny little devil before….)

Talk to him about it, you say? This is how that conversation goes:

Me: So, um, yeah, are you ever gonna want to do me again? ‘Cause I’m horny as fuck.

Him:

Me: Are you weirded out that there’s a baby in there? Because you know he can’t feel anything, right? He wouldn’t even be able to feel a porn-star dick.

Him:

Me: (Trying a different approach) So… it makes me really sad that you don’t find me attractive anymore.

Him:

You get the picture.

What’s the frickin’ point of having a significant other when you’re pregnant if they can’t even be bothered to do you? I know impotence because of my condition is not the issue, because blowjobs have been issued to ensure that wasn’t the problem. So, what? I’m just supposed to accept that I’m living with an inconsiderate asshat?

I object.

Pornstar Status

You’ve missed me, haven’t you?

It’s ok. You don’t have to admit it. I know that truth.

Anyhoo, I apologize that your last week has been mostly completely devoid of Sparklebumps entertainment. You know what they say- Misery loves company. Yes, I do.  So my intent is to make you as miserable as I.

Just kidding! I loves you all and want you to be happy! It’s not YOUR fault I suck at making basic life decisions, and so I shall drag myself out of bed to write a post that will (it is hoped) brighten your day.

I’ve always dreamed of being a Porn Star. While this urge has mostly remained in my subconcious, it’s always been there a little bit. Ever since my used-to-be-friend and I found her dad’s stash of Playboys.

I believe my desire to be a world famous Porn Queen stems from my histrionic personality disorder and the fact that I want everyone to look at me! Look at me!!!!! If I think this through a little more, I would actually throw a robe on if everyone was looking at me naked and scream, “Don’t look at me! Don’t look at me!”

I must say though, I believe I would be a huge hit if I ever were to film my sexual deviances for public consumption. (Even bigger than that Kardashian chic.) There would be none of that fake orgasming shit while screaming, “Oh god, oh yeah, right there, baby, fuck me good.Aghhhhhhh!” No. That shit pisses me right off. My sex scenes would harbor only true and legitimate cummings, accompanied by my true and legitimate orgasm squeaking. (Shut up. I can’t help it. And anyway, people seem to like it, so there.)

I would also make sure to only star in porn that carries a well-written story line and stars people with stellar acting abilities. I realize this is generally not the prerequisite for skin flicks, but it should be, dammit. Wouldn’t a movie about a Princess who is forced to be a sex slave while trying to save her country from anarchy be much more interesting than a copier-machine repair man accidentally sticking his boner into the secretary’s ass when she drops that memo onto the floor?

You may be wondering what has inspired today’s post.

A few weeks ago, I wrote a little post entitled Anal Glands, Shrimp Scampi, and Gene Simmons. A few days later I was browsing through my spam and saw that this post had been linked to another website. Being the insanely curious woman that I am, I clicked on the link (though I’ve been told that clicking on spam is a bad thing) and my eyes were immediately met with the sight of a girl bent over get drilled by another girl with a dildo. How thrilled do you think I was when I saw that my post made it on to the Strippers for your Desktop website?  I didn’t even realize this was something I was aiming for.

Actually, I must admit, at first I was completely appalled that my superior writing skills were being linked to porn sites (what would my church family say?), but after the initial shock wore off, I just shrugged and thought, “What the hell? There really is no such thing as bad publicity…”

I have since decided that if the whole “real” writing thing doesn’t work out, I shall be able to become famous by writing daily about anal glands. Maybe someday there could even be a Sparklebumps Channel  that only airs well-written porn starring Yours Truly.