Sunday, July 31, 2005

Going off


In my family things “go off.” A flower, once bloomed has finally managed to “go off.” My boobs, suddenly making round wet spots on my shirt as the baby wakes and starts to fuss have “gone off.” You can even say something “went off” and you’ll still be on track. The emphasis isn’t on the second word in the way that implies a man who has become enraged by someone and “goes OFF” on them. It’s a simple statement: “Give me the baby, my boobs are going off.” We use this phrase so often that we forget that to others it can be a bit of a shock. Especially when used in combo with the word “boob.” And wouldn’t you know it, that’s when the phrase gets the most use these days.

Post partum is an interesting time for a woman’s body. Everything is rearranging: floppy belly skin is trying to reshape, internal organs are drifting back to their original locations, the relaxin still flowing through your being makes a leg “go off” and simply stop working or makes you wake in the middle of the night wondering what your arm is doing way over there somewhat disconnected from the rest of you. All this shifting can have some unexpected and rather unpleasant (though thankfully temporary) effects.

Over the last couple of days, something else on my body has been going off.

My butt.

I reach up to grab a pitcher from the top shelf and “fuuut” says my butt. Sit heavily into a chair and “hey there, fuuut!” exclaims my butt. Jump down from the top step with Lily and “woo, fuuut!” cries my butt with joy! What the fuuut! is going on here? It makes sense to have an overactive fuuut! response while a fetus is sitting on your intestines, but now they HAVE SPACE. I remember this happening after Lily was born and it goes away in short time, thank goodness. In the meantime, I’m giggling inappropriately and getting impressed looks from my husband and child while quickly leaving supermarket aisle even if I haven't managed to find the item for which I was searching. I’m also not looking forward to my next trip to the chiropractor.

At least I haven’t startled anyone with a ferocious and sudden fuuut!

Yet.