The Amazing Green Hulk of Residual Estrogen and Envy

I wanted to call today's post, "My Life in Hell: The Tragic Story of One Woman's Agony, Suffering and Torment" but I thought it might be off putting and there may already be a Lifetime TV made for television movie of the same name starring Lindsay Wagner or Valerie Bertinelli.

It all re-started when I was reading a book of essays, as I do. And, as much as I enjoy a good book of essays, I see them more as a yardstick with which to compare myself more than an entertaining read. I look to them as either validation that my book of essays could and should be published or that I am a total hack and that anything I write should be driven by an express courier to the fish market and given to the chief fish monger to use as fish wrap for the stinkiest of sea foods. The essays were good, but not good enough to leave my manuscript smelling like a sturgeon.

I will not tell you the name of this book of essays or the author who wrote them---and not for any reason other than I am about to descend into "My Life in Hell: The Tragic Story of one Woman's Agony, Suffering and Torment."

I read each and every essay until I got to the one that talked about babies. As soon as I saw the "B" word, you know, baby, I started to skim the page using the Evelyn Woods speed reading technique I had learned in my undergrad learning strategies class. I scanned for the words that would flip my mood like a switch, words like "pregnancy, IUI, positive test, pregnant, had a baby, and breastfeeding."

I kept turning the pages until there were no more baby words on the page. But instead of reading her amusing story of becoming pregnant and the poignantly funny climax in which she learns how the baby changed her life and just how lucky she is, I have read a condensed keyword search. Over and over I read: pregnant, IUI, IVF, reproductive endocrinologist, pregnant, morning sickness, pregnant, cravings, OB/GYN, lactating, pregnant, water broke, baby, baby, baby, mother, father, baby, baby changed my life, happy, joy, bliss, baby, happy, baby, happy, happy. Now those words may not send your nervous system into post traumatic shock but they do mine. Let me try to create a series of words that might send the same jolt into your solar plexus and other areas of your anatomy, how about: death, needles in your eye, seeing your ex when you look like crap, mother in law, debt, IRS, cancer, cellulite, and wrinkles, wrinkles, weight gain, wrinkles,wrinkles, wrinkles. You get the idea.

Fifteen pages later, the baby had left the essays and I could start to read again. But I don't know what I read because my brain was rendered useless by envy. I had previously found this author funny, smart and likable, her stories engaging---and with just a few ill chosen words, like "son", "baby" and "life changing", I started to hate her. Yep, I hated this woman who I have never met for having a baby after going through the same process that I did. How come she gets one and I don't? No f'n fare.

Up until today have I tricked you into thinking I am a nice person. Well, I guess I am until babies are involved and then all the niceness leaves my body and I turn into the Amazing Green Hulk of Residual Estrogen and Envy. No she wasn't in the first movie. But, there is talk of including her in the second movie. The Amazing Green Hulk of Residual Estrogen and Envy dated the Hulk for a long time and they both decided to put their Hulking careers first. And, she read how Spider Babe had had a baby at 40. But, what no one was saying is that Spider Babe hatched her kids through the use of donated spider eggs. Anyways, the Amazing Green Hulk of Residual Estrogen and Envy is really pissed that she couldn't have her own green baby, and her rage is powered by Progesterone, Lupron and Follistim and she is destroying all the Baby Gaps, Gymborees and Toys"R"Us in the world. Look for it at a theater near you.

I read the acknowledgments at the end of the book and I saw that the author had thanked her baby son, who without the book would not have been possible. My mind reeled trying to comprehend how the baby helped her. Was it his incessant crying or perhaps all his sleepless nights that got her to do the kind of writing that leads to publication with a decent publicity budget? What exactly was the formula of her success? Was it Similac or Bright Beginnings? Or, is there some kind of link between breast feeding and literary success? Well, not only do I not have a baby---but without the baby I might never have a book of essays to dedicate one to. Ugh, my skin is looking a little green.

Illustration of the real She-Hulk is from here.