Rockabye

Honey, Honey

Honey, honey, touch me baby, aha, honey, honey
Honey, honey, hold me baby, aha, honey, honey
You look like a movie star (look like a movie star)
But I like just who you are (I like just who you are)
And honey, to say the least, you're a dog-gone beast

Joe spent the final stages of his second trimester hating himself. Utterly and completely despising everything about himself. The way he felt and the way he looked hit him harder than anything. His back was hurting more and more as the days went on and he was starting to wonder if he'd even be able to walk when he was eight months.

He blamed it on his shitty posture over the years. Lounging back without a single fucking care about the consequences. He thought of all the times his mother would tell him to sit up straighter, and he'd just roll his eyes and slump down further. As a dance instructor, she used to tape rulers to the backs of the little girls in her ballet class.

She used to threaten to do the same to Joe, but she never made good on that threat though Joe wished now that she had. Maybe it would have saved him some discomfort.

The truth was, Joe couldn't even fully process how much he hated what he was turning into. He always had a bit of a tiny stomach. He'd never be the type of man to have rock hard abs no matter how much he worked out. And he did work out for a time being. When he first came to New York he joined a gym to get in shape and get rid of the freshman fifteen he had gained throughout college.

It worked and he was pretty damn healthy for the years that passed. Sure, he drank beer and ate garbage, but he also walked nearly everywhere and made sure to eat the good shit too. He took care of himself then and he took even better care of himself now that the baby there. He gave into some of the cravings, but he also took his vitamins and did his yoga and walked around just the same through his feet were killing him more often than not.

He just looked so . . . wrong. His body just wasn't proportioned correctly. His stomach was low and growing wider each day. His face was still slim, making him look like he had an obnoxiously large beer stomach.

He knew it was meant to be like this and he wasn't the only person to go through these changes, but Joe couldn't help but be selfish. He always knew he wasn't the hottest guy around, but thinking himself as ugly never came around.

But here he was, feeling like a grotesque beast who didn't make sense and was constantly being kicked from the inside. He didn't talk about it with anyone other than Lucy, who would comment that he was acting silly and dumb. He was creating life and that was the most beautiful thing in the world and anybody who thought differently was absolutely daft.

The thing was however, Joe didn't go around wearing a shirt that said "Baby on Board" so anybody who saw him just thought of him as some fat weirdo and not a walking medical miracle.

His clothing style has remained the same, though it didn't matter much. He was growing wider and his shirts were no longer fitting right. He spent a good portion of his time wearing sweats because that's all that fit and allowed him to be comfortable. However, he only owned so many sweats and eventually had to take care of laundry and he couldn't take care of that in anything but his underwear.

He stood in front of his mirror, trying on every single article of clothing he owned. Tee shirts were pointless because all they did was cling to his body in such a horrible matter. Everything just felt tight around him, like he was being smothered and he hated it.

He threw another shirt onto the floor, adding it to the pile of things he just wanted to go from his sight when he heard the familiar accent coming from behind him.