All I need is…

One of the things I’ve noticed being pregnant is that your libido is playing tricks on you. It’s been going in phases, depending on sleeping patterns, hormones and bodily changes. The first months were a roller coaster to say the least, but as my breasts were swelling from a small C to a D, so did my lust. I was thinking of sex more often than not, often flashing before my eyes just as I was writing that Project Definition Document at work. Fortunately I’m quite good at pushing unwelcome thoughts away, and in fact those sexy daydreams provided inspiration rather than diversion. I am sure my work documents became even more enjoyable to read as a result.

When I was about 3 months pregnant, we went on a holiday to south of France. Having abstained myself for months, I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. After all sex is so much better when you haven’t tasted it for long. Try not eating your favourite dish for a few months. I can guarantee you it taste even better when you finally get it served on a platter. Or does it? The rapid consumption may leave us full but fulfilled?

Well I was convinced a holiday would halt the declining trend, but to my surprise it didn’t. After long days lounging at the beach, or making little excursions to secluded villages, late dinners and cocktails (mine naturally of the non-alcoholic kind) we crashed in bed sometime after midnight. Making love was the last thing on our minds.

I immersed myself into reading about the subject. Was I becoming a sexual recluse? The good news was that the second trimester, which promised nothing short of a sexual Eldorado. I was eagerly anticipating the coming months. But as I entered this period of unequivalent libido, I also entered my most busy time at work, often working until 1 or 2 in the morning. My thoughts were once again diverted to other priorities. As a self-confessed lover of all things amorous, the worst part is being denied what you so desperately crave and need. Therefore I much prefer self-mutilating my cravings than having them denied. As a result I was happy with my new focus.

I entered my 6 month with a heavy cold which turned into a flu, prolonged by months of coughing. I stopped going to the gym as a result and with this my body started its expansion. There was no turning back. Whilst some women may feel horrified by this and others feeling even more sexy, I was left with the most ambivalent feelings. On one side, I wasn’t exactly thrilled with my newly gained love handles, flabby thighs and an ever expanding bum, which in fact provided for a very coushy existence. But on the other side, I was amazed by the whole transformation, and my blooming chest provided much fascination.

Yesterday, as I came out of the shower I only needed to take one look at myself and my tears started to stream down. Although I was aware of my changes they were so blatantly obvious in the harsh light of the ceiling spotlights. I felt (rationally or not) that my body was in fact my enemy. Enemy to the carnal pleasures I have taken for granted but now seemed a distant memory. I made a quick calculation, it will take about two months (realistically three) before I will be back to my old self again. Does that mean another 3 months of abstinence? I wasn’t sure I could hold out for that long.

When I was young (about 5) , I decided I was going to become a nun. Because nuns always looked so beautiful wearing their habits. To me, a girl with short hair looking like a boy, it provided the perfect solution for obscuring my lack of hair. The memory came back as I was scrutinizing myself in the bathroom mirror, and I laughed for second in all my misery. Somehow, my former choice of career, didn’t seem so distant anymore…