My husband, CJ, likes to joke that I'm actually 6,432 years old. He swears that I'm from ancient
Egyptian times and that if we went to the pyramids today we would find a hieroglyph of me. 'Course all I can picture is my face plastered over a figure that looks like it's doing the dance from the Bangles hit song "Walk Like an Egyptian."
I am so not offended by this. I totally get that it's my husband's humorous way of addressing my incredible genetic make-up. I must give props where they're due; God & my ancestors have blessed me with melanin and close to zero wrinkles. Or, as I like to call it "The Black Don't Crack Factor". See, my husband is Australian and though he does brown nicely in the summer he has mostly Viking and Northern European ancestry which makes him rightfully jealous of my year-round tan. Even he admits that as the years go by he's
going to look like a dirty old man while I'll continue to look like a fresh-faced 20-something even well into my 40's -God willing. I can't disagree so I tell him to take comfort in the fact that by then most people will just assume he has a buttload of money or a huge you-know-what or both. That usually makes him feel better. But egos aside- this pregnancy has me feeling like I could be a few thousand years old- or at least that my skin is! I have NEVER had an issue with dry skin outside of winter. But right now there's not enough Cocoa Butter in the world to soothe my dryness and occasional itching. That's right, I'm sexy and I know it! I will say I was warned by articles on the fantastic site from the What to Expect When You're Expecting people- but I had NO idea til it hit me! This is a war on my epidermis I have to going into combat mode. So short of an IV I'm pushing the extra fluids and hydrating my body inside & out so that I don't become the Mummy my darling husband already gives me credit for being. Guess I'm going to need that "find a bathroom" app. asap!