The iconic birth scene from "Alien" became a little too real.
The surface beneath my dress roiled the way lava looks just before a geyser erupts. I watched for a long time, too distracted to read. I hiked up my dress and watched undulating skin far longer than it could have possibly been interesting, and well after it had stopped I kept watching in case it started again. And, of course, I took video and fired it off via to a half-dozen people.
Gurgles from christa pista on Vimeo.
Shit gets real at about the 9 second mark when I pan right. Isn't that adorable that I think anyone would want to watch this?
After taking this video, I wondered what it would be like for the PBG to someday see this in utero moment captured. It's the 2013 version of Chuck's mom showing him a grainy 1970s photograph of herself pregnant and saying: "This is when you went to Colorado."
There is a large music festival happening here in D-Town this week and I've been out every night catching at least one band. This has turned Chuck into bubble wrap personified. He guides me through crowds with his arms out like a force field. And if the hippie bros get pushy, he shoots them a fierce face and looks primed for an aggressive windmill move, if need be.
Woke up. Unloaded dishwasher, reloaded. Wiped down the countertops. Went downstairs and ran a load of white clothes in the washing machine. Came back upstairs, made toast, made coffee. There was a time when I couldn't even open my left eye without at least three sips of coffee. This has been one of the most interesting behavioral transformations of the past few months.
"Why are you doing all of this?" Chuck asked.
"I'm not sure," I said. "But I have my suspicions."
I have never been hungrier in my life. Not during epic mid-puberty cross country practices. Not when we became obsessed with kale for a summer. This is the hunger of the emaciated, dragged from the woods with bark stuck between their teeth.
It strikes fierce and sudden and sometimes my only recourse is to dip into the nearest drive thru, the words "Just eat healthy" ringing in my ears. And then I stuff food into my face using both hands.
A few days ago I sat in the Arby's parking lot wondering how often someone doubles back through for a bonus roast beef. I didn't make the same mistake last night. I just ordered two.
I looked in the rear view mirror when I was done eating. There was horsey sauce on my nose.
"Oh, Christa," I thought. "Have some pride."