"...you ain't got shit and you're hoping no one can tell..."
Tummy Untucked, June 13, 2006
I managed to avoid looking down for a two weeks. A few pairs of jeans became ineligible, but other than that, you couldn't tell I was pregnant. The skin on my stomach began to feel thick, like a tough, full water balloon, and El Babydaddy said, "I see it, I see it."
I didn't, thank you very much.
Until yesterday. Almost overnight, there was a pop. I caught my profile in a mirror and screamed. There's no going back, there's no sucking in. The vampire KilBaby has taken over my body. At Target, I bought three maternity XL maternity blouses and my boobs are already eyeing the neckline, planning their escape.
I had meetings last week. All week. All day. Almost every day. Pitching is a skill, and I am unskilled in it. It's sales. Here's why I'm great, interesting and should be your first choice the next time your staffing a show! I hate it. I never believe anyone who sells themself. You're bullshitting, cause you ain't got shit and you're hoping no one can tell. If you're any good, your work speaks for you.
Not in Los Angeles.
You have to be as engaging as your spec script. And you'd think I could fake it because I'm a comic, but no. Something about being onstage gives me superhuman confidence. Sitting in a couch in an office, with no mic, no lights and no stage, and I am just a self-conscious thirteen year old who's too tall, too big and can't remember the finer points of the pilot I spent five months writing.
Oh well.
I've been writing for a new comedy site called
Daily Comedy. I get a stipend for crapping out topical jokes, and
my homepage on that site lists all my jokes. As soon as I get my camera hooked up, I'll be doing short Weekend Update-esque webcasts.
