Do you ever have that thing happen to you were you start to get self conscious about talking too much? But instead of stopping yourself, you hear yourself talk more and more- telling stories that involve the F word or things that happen to you in the bathroom?  Then you make an awkward joke about talking too much, which makes everyone being tortured by you have to reassure you that you’re not being annoying?  Then you finally get yourself to shut up only to be met by silence and curious looks by the people around you?  

 

Then you wonder if maybe you weren’t talking too much, maybe you were actually being funny and now everyone is left without entertainment?  So you decide to tell one more funny story, but it’s the graphic one about two old people you know who went to a swingers club?  And the people laugh but you can totally tell that you crossed the line?  So you explain that you didn’t mean tot cross the line, but comedy is a gamble and you have to be in it to win it but sometimes you lose?  Then you get a few laughs off of that lotto joke which give you a little self confidence so you tell another story?

 

Then you realize you are dominating the conversation again so you try and ask someone else a question but they turn out to be a dud and answer you monosyllabically so you’re left having to rescue the conversation again?  Finally it’s late enough to go and the whole cab ride home you can’t stop wondering if you’re the life of the party, the most annoying person ever or completely neurotic?

 

Yea.  That happens to me sometimes too.

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There are so many things I didn’t know before I got pregnant. For instance: I didn’t know I would grow a fine white beard or cry in the super market when moving muzak was played. But I think one of the more difficult things I’ve encountered is that I can’t complain anymore. I mean I am able to complain, but people are always trying to make me feel better instead of commiserating.

 

I’m beating around the bush though, because there’s only one big thing I want to complain about…my weight. I’ve gained a pound a week since I got pregnant. It’s not like I’m eating hot wings and ice cream, I just can’t move that well anymore. At first I was too tired, then I got a chronic back ache (sacrum, if you want to know all the gory details). Now at twenty weeks, I feel like a minke whale.

 

It’s not just my belly, it’s my giant boobs and feet too. For someone who was so vain about her intense and regular gym work outs, this is a very distressing change. Especially because when I do make it to the gym, I feel like it’s packed with skinny pregnant girls jogging on the treadmill. I would need a plaster bra to go jogging.

 

I try and complain about how fat I feel to everyone. I’m not exaggerating. I bring it up to the Fed Ex guy, the mail lady, the 7-11 clerk, my mom, my doorman, a guy I saw smoking outside of my office building…anyone who makes the mistake of asking “How are you”. It turns out that the most frustrating part about feeling hugely fat and unathletic is that people respond with the most annoyingly obvious “But you’re pregnant”.

 

Yes. I know I’m pregnant. And I’m so so happy I am. It truly feel like it’s a miracle, and I don’t even believe in miracles. It’s something I dreamed about happening since I first met my husband (creating a tiny helpless version of him who would let me bath him and carry him around).

 

I just didn’t know I’d feel so fat.

 

So there you have it. That’s the truth. I’m pregnant, and I’m one of those people who I made fun of before I knew what it was like. How could I possibly care what I look like if I have a human growing inside of me? But it’s really how rickety I feel. And how much I hate noticing it, instead of being in a constant state of euphoria about the little bean in my belly.

Dear Poor Lucky Me,

 

Now that you’ve revealed your identity, can we still seek your advice? I hope so, because I don’t know where else to go.

 

I have been watching the A&E series Hoarders and I’m starting to get worried. What if I am a Hoarder? I mean my house doesn’t look bad, but I do have a lot of collections. Like I collect spoons, old radios, Beanie Babies, baseball cards, snow globes and exotic hot sauces. So far I think I have them arranged in a pretty cool way, but the show is making me second guess myself.

 

What do you think? Should I be worried?

 

Signed,
Collector for Fun and Money

 

Dear Collector,
Yes! Although I am now a real person, I still hunger for opportunities to give advice. I’m thankful that you reached out to me. Please always consider Poor Lucky Me your safe place.

 

Based on your list of collections and the emotions that Hoarders has stirred up, I would recommend making an appointment with a therapist. Bring photos. Hopefully they’ll say you have nothing to worry about. If they say that you do have something to worry about, it’s better to know now then sit around polishing your spoons and worrying. One of the many great things about being human is that we have so many opportunities to break patterns and better ourselves. You should never be without hope.

 

That being said, did anyone really ever make money off of collecting Beanie Babies? I remember when everyone was snatching them up like they were under-valued gold bullion, but I just assumed that left millions of Beanie Babies stuffed in people’s basements all across America. I worked at this pharmacy after school in 9th grade and the elderly would stampede into the store every month when the new shipment of Beanie Babies arrived. It was like the Beatles on the Ed Sullivan show, but for old people. Exotic Hot Sauces sound cool though. I’d buy that.

 

Sincerely,
Poor Lucky Me

Yesterday I walked to the local Asian infusion restaurant to eat some faux sushi. My man and I sat at a table along the banquette and were checking out the menu when the host sat a couple beside us. They were nice looking, in their early 20’s, and seemingly normal. But as the guy settled into his chair, I was punched in the face with the most powerful dose of Drakkar Noir I’ve smelled since an 8th grade mixer.

 

Maybe it was just my sensitive pregnant nose, and this person actually smelled normal. Panicked, I gestured to my man. He smelled it too. His eyes rolled in his head like a terrified horse. We tried to discreetly scoot our table to away from the olfactory offender, but our polite Midwestern upbringing made us terrified that the table would screech along the floor and reveal our plot.

 

I felt like the world was tipping on it’s axis. Do normal people still wear cologne or could I take this as a sign that this guy was a pervert/serial killer/carnival ride operator/porn actor? I feigned interest in my husbands attempts at conversation while actually straining to hear what the Drakkarian was saying. Nothing of note. He ordered some sushi roles and talked about his trip to Mexico. Nothing about a Silicon Valley acting gig or the best way to assemble the tea cup rides.

 

I couldn’t eat very much with the stank of man perfume filling my nostrils, but I feel like I learned something really important. Something that we take for granted when trying to organize our world into something we can understand. The truth is that even normal looking, normal sounding people can be social deviants.

As you all know, the Greatest Person Ever awards are rebranding for their 2010 season. Because I am a long-time holder of the coveted plaque, their committee has asked me to aid in the process. My assignment: Reveal my true identity, allow my many fans to see me as I truly am- a really awesome person who is fraught with flaws and neurosis, just like you.

 

At first I balked at the idea. I didn’t think I was ready to come out from behind the curtain. But the Greatest Person Ever Awards needed me. The organization really understood me and recognized my strengths, it was important to me to live up to the award. So here it goes.

 

The real Poor Lucky Me is me. I’m a 31 year old woman who lives in Chicago IL in a tiny apartment with my husband and dog. I work in advertising and am pregnant with my first baby. I rarely practice what I preach, but I keep trying. And I really believe that everything will be ok.

 

So that’s who I really am. I think the truth is going to change everything. You have all been writing me your deepest darkest secrets for three years; perhaps it’s time to shed some light on my own.

Dear Poor Lucky Me,

 

I’m at the doctor’s office as I write this, sitting here naked except for the stupid toilet-paper gown they put you in, and I have to wonder what the hell is the deal? Is it really necessary that I strip down and sit on a butcher-paper covered table for a half hour for a checkup? I’m not here for surgery or a colonoscopy or something, just a checkup. Blood pressure, maybe cholesterol screening or whatever, all of which could be easily completed in the pants and shirt I was wearing.

 

So I ask, PLM, is this some kind of psychological maneuver to get you to accept what the doctor has to say without question, or is there some valid reason I’m dressed like a badly wrapped deli sandwich?

 

Yours,
Pantless and Perplexed in Denver

 

Dear Pantless,
I’m pretty sure the paper gowns are to promote good hygiene- you can never be sure that some one is wearing clean clothes. Even if they let you get close enough for a sniff, a few shots of Fabreeze right before a person goes out can be very deceiving. In face, I have instituted an all paper clothes rule in my own home. I’m not germaphobic, I just don’t want to be expected to be wearing clean clothes every single time some one comes to my home. This way the playing field is even. You can’t be all hoity toity about your dry cleaned outfit if we’re all sitting around the living room drinking Fanta in paper gowns and booties.

 

I think this is something that might catch on professionally as well. Business suits are both confining and difficult to travel with. A paper gown- or better yet- paper shorts and a paper tank top- can go with you anywhere! I know what you’re thinking- why not scrubs? Sure, they could be more comfortable and hold less risk of exposing your buttocks, but then you might as well wear clothes. And you know that people would start wearing designer scrubs, or silk scrubs, scrubs lined with fur. We should just stick to the paper.

 

So look out for that in the coming decades.

 

Sincerely,
Poor Lucky Me

Dear Poor Lucky Me,
In my opinion it is too difficult to remember which months have 30 days and which have 31. February has 28! It’s so stupid and intentionally confusing in my opinion.

 

I know there’s some stupid song you can learn to remember but my brain is busy remembering all the songs from Led Zepplin Houses of the Holy.

 

You’ve got to agree with me.

 

Signed,
Just Looking For Confirmation

 

Dear Just Looking For Confirmation,

 

I do agree with you. There’s probably some scientific reason that the calender is set up that way…something about the lunar such and such or the minutes in a year. The bottom line is that in today’s fast paced world I cannot be expected to learn how many days are in each month and how to prepare a PowerPoint presentation.

 

For the record, I don’t know how to prepare a PowerPoint presentation.

 

Sincerely,
Poor Lucky Me

10 Things I Think I Invented Despite What The Internet Says

 

1. The John Daly (Iced Tea, Lemonade, Vodka)

 

2. The Dictionary. Mine is smaller than the one you buy in a book store and contains more swear words, but I came up with the idea ages ago.

 

3. HDTV. Seriously, ask my mom. I totally invented that.

 

4. Peanut Butter, Bacon, Mayo and Tomato Sandwiches. It’s NOT a BLT.

 

5. That move that Kanye did where you get all wasted and stagger onto the stage and grab the mic out of someone else’s hand and start blathering about something. I do that all the time.

 

6. Tricked out hub caps. I did my own with a glue gun and sequins. I don’t know who’s idea it was to make them chrome but it’s pretty sweet.

 

7. Horse diapers.

 

8. Solar power. I guess technically I didn’t invent the sun. But it was my idea to use the sun to do stuff.

 

9. The iPhone. Ever since I got an iPod I wold use it on the EL to deter homeless people and religious types from approaching me. I would just hold it up to my head and talk into it AS IF it was a phone. People would either believe it was a phone and leave me alone or think I was insane and leave me alone. Obviously, I was pretty shocked when Apple stole my idea.

 

10. The movie Avatar. I’d been talking forever about making a movie with kick ass special effects and 3D and a story line so boring and contrived that it allows stupid people to feel like they got the symbolism and smart people to scoff at the plot-line but still feel like their liberal political ideals had been addressed.