Every morning, after I finally find one of the 3 shirts that still fit me and put it on, I look at my reflection in the mirror and compare myself to the fruit that best matches the color of shirt I’m wearing. For instance, today I look like a gigantic plum. Yesterday, in my black shirt and skirt, I looked like an eggplant, and the day before I looked like a Granny Smith apple on steroids. I don’t know if this comparison is natural or if it just happens automatically, kind of like the various results one gets when taking a Rorschach inkblot test.
Dr. Minivan: Focus Becky, what do you see on this card today?
Becky: Two kumquats exchanging burp-pads and tossing their pacifiers into a pool.
Dr. Minivan: Uh-huh. What do you see in this one?
Becky: A cotton-poly textured watermelon, the size of cow, sitting in a full lotus posture. The cows legs seem to be asleep and she seems to be mooing for help.
By the results of these tests, you can probably guess that I’m still pregnant. The eyes of kids whose heads meet the level of my belly, still bulge when they see the giant orb coming their way. All three of my boys are, on a daily basis, bonked in the head if we happen to pass in the hallway. They’re used to these assaults but I can hardly wait to have the power to suck-it-in again. We are all getting excited to meet the new baby sisters and I’ve even heard Reed tell others how he’s got to learn how to change a diaper now.
Becky: So, Dr. Minivan, what do you see in this picture?
Dr. Minivan: Ketchup mashed into carpet, a chicken nugget stuck between to carseats, and a straw flying toward the driver’s head.