Pregnancy & Baby Index: Pregnancy - Diaries: Minsun: Week 15: Pregnant celebrities
Week 15: Pregnant celebrities
Minsun Park
Read along as Minsun, a 29-year-old screenwriter and freelance writer living in Los Angeles, chronicles her first pregnancy.
There's a great deal of hype about the magical second trimester.
Just about everyone from my doctor to my cleaning lady assured me
that I would just spring out of bed one day and do cartwheels all
the way to the breakfast table. Even my single girlfriends
endorsed this theory (as if having an occasional late period made
them pregnancy experts). And for once, everybody was
right! I haven't given a digestive encore for the Ty-D-Bol
man in seven wonderful days, and I'm so happy I could cry.
Although I still get queasy moments, for the most part, I feel
like my old self -- only bigger.
Now that I've reconciled myself to the "I'm not stupid, I'm just
pregnant" phase, I have embarked on the "Uh, I'm not fat, I'm
just pregnant" stage of this glorious condition. I'm too small
for maternity clothes yet too big for my old clothes. Every day,
I look longingly at the tiny, hip-hugger jeans in my closet and
reach for the baggy drawstring anything instead. My new fashion
statement is the "fat plumber meets rapper" look. Since I can't
bear to wear anything around my bump, I wear my pants and skirts
so low I'm constantly in danger of showing my butt cleavage.
After hitching my pants up for the thousandth time, I started
flipping through some pregnancy magazines in the desperate hopes
of coming up with fashion inspiration.
After staring at page after glossy page of beautiful pregnant
supermodel/actresses/whatever types, I heartily agree with F.
Scott Fitzgerald's famous observation that, "the rich are
different from you or I." Living in Los Angeles and working in
the entertainment industry, celebrity sightings are a part of
life. My biggest joys in life have been seeing Cameron Diaz and
Gwyneth Paltrow doing errands. Not because I'm such a huge fan,
but because without makeup their faces were splotchy and covered
with zits. I love affirmations that these goddesses are mere
mortals.
I recently sat next to Jodie Foster in a restaurant
having breakfast with her baby boy. It was nice watching Jodie
Foster as a single mom, feeding her baby and eating carbs like a
real human being (a BLT with fries). She smiled at me, I smiled
back, it was a nice fuzzy moment. But later, I read a quote in a
magazine about regarding her pregnancy and I hated her instantly.
Not only did she gain a mere 15 pounds, she says, "I didn't have
a single bad moment. Really, it couldn't have been easier. I
would do this professionally if only it paid better." Sheesh,
talk about an overachiever. It's not bad enough she's an actress,
producer and director she has to horn in on the surrogate mother
job market too.
If you pay attention to pregnant celebrities in the news, being
rich and fabulous means being able to sail through those nine
months hygienically and photogenically while the unwashed masses
waddle around in sweats and unkempt hair. It also means being
able to deliver in luxury and comfort. Cedars-Sinai Hospital in
Los Angeles is the celebrity hospital because they offer
deluxe maternity suites complete with a living room and dining
room, hardwood floors, exquisite furniture, a computer and fax
machine, robes, stocked refrigerator and mini-bar. Not to mention
room service, a candlelight dinner for two and a personal doula.
I'm fully aware that money and fame don't buy happiness, but does
it really, truly offer a reprieve from the other, ahem,
unmentionable discomforts of pregnancy? For example, when Madonna
was pregnant with Rocco did she ever feel, you know, not so
fresh? Did she ever squirm through an interview with a ferocious
yeast infection? And what about Jane Leeves from "Frasier?" Has
she ever just let one rip during a scene, in front of the whole
studio audience? Or don't pregnant celebrities fart?
Thandie Newton from "Mission Impossible" is pregnant now and
looks glowingly beautiful in her tight designer dresses. Sure she
looks great, but can she burp the alphabet? Did Catherine
Zeta-Jones ever vomit into her handbag while overcome with
morning sickness? Did Cindy Crawford ever read a magazine cover
to cover during a particularly nasty bout of constipation?
Damnit, these are the gory details inquiring minds, really
want to know! Well, maybe only inquiring pregnant minds. Only
the very old and the very pregnant find gastro-intestinal details
completely riveting.
This month, supermodel Vendela is on the cover of "Fit Pregnancy"
looking like a boa constrictor who just ate a baby goat. And I
mean that in the best possible way. Her hair is lustrous, her
skin is a glowing peaches and cream, her arms and legs are lean
and lithe. Nowhere else is she pregnant except for her tummy. In
contrast, my hair is frizzy, the only glow my skin has is the
over-production of oil resulting in zits, and I swear my butt is
pregnant too. I look like the Dancing Baby from "Ally McBeal."
Yet, as disgusted as I am by these misleading glossy images, I
cannot look away. I admit to being a hopelessly shallow person in
pursuit of aesthetic beauty. I can't help but cling to the hope
that if I wear the right outfit, massage enough cocoa butter into
my skin and get enough exercise, maybe I too can look like a boa
constrictor who just ate a baby goat.
I know that it's all smoke and mirrors requiring a staff with a
physical trainer, a cook, a nutritionist, a personal hairdresser
and a fashion stylist. But maybe the real prerequisite is having
only one name like Madonna, Cher or Vendela. Unfortunately,
Minsun doesn't have a pretentious enough ring to it. It rhymes
too much with Dim Sum, sounds too much like monsoon and nobody,
but nobody ever gets it right on the first try.
Minsun