Birthing Video Outburst Confirms: My Husband and I Will Never Fit Into Prenatal Classes

Last night the hubby and I attended a prenatal class at our midwives' clinic.

Now, the night before I had attended prenatal yoga and then we'd gone to a hypnobirthing class, so needless to say, we were already feeling some birthing burnout.

We were one of ten couples at the class last night. The instructor, a doula, announced she was going to show us a video of couples birthing in the Black Sea, just so we could see that birth does not have to take place in a sterile hospital environment.

Then the video started. Keep in mind my husband and I were sitting right beside the TV, in front of everyone.

So, first there's some soothing '70s flute tunes accompanying grainy colour footage of naked Russian couples hanging off each other while the mother labours. The couples are surrounded by other naked men and women who seem intent on rubbing the labouring mom.

More flute tunes worthy of a 1976 margarine commercial. A pale newborn and its umbilical cord float in the water. Then a slo-mo shot of a seagull soaring past the clouds.

This is when I started to giggle. I actively avoided looking at my husband while I tried to catch my breath.

Cut to a shot of a naked boy playing flute on a rock. I saw my husband's foot shaking up and down. I bit my lip and used my hand to hide my face from the other, very serious, couples around us.

At this point, tears were streaming down my face, my whole body was shaking with laughter. I could hear my husband making little squeaks as he gasped for breath.

More babies float in the water and then: the dolphins arrive.

I actually blurted "Dolphin!" and my husband and I made eye contact and all was lost. We both collapsed in hysterics, our faces bright red and soaked in tears.

When the movie ended a few minutes later, the class was silent. My husband and I hung our heads and stared at our toes. I used the cuff of my sweat shirt to wipe my running nose.

When I finally faced the room, I realized not a single person was at all amused. But we had just witnessed naked Russians and dolphins and flute-playing toddlers!

It wasn't like we'd laughed because birth is silly or naked women freak us out. We're not a pair of 12-year-old boys (which I was quickly starting to feel like). It was an awesomely bad video. And one that is apparently available on You Tube and hugely popular with birthing classes.

Maybe that's the real purpose of the film. When I'm in labour I can keep in mind: thank god some dolphin isn't lurking around me.

93-Year-Old Writes Her Way to Old Lady Freedom

93-year-old Lorna Page has become one of the oldest first-time novelists, with the debut of A Dangerous Weakness.

The book is described as a "raunchy" feminist thriller set in the Alps. Page used her advance to buy a country house, where she plans to locate her friends who would otherwise be destined for the old folks' home.

I'm not surprised that a great-grandmother can write but it's reassuring to see that she can also be published. A couple of years ago I taught creative writing to seniors and while the talent was there, it was often presented (especially by the women) with a sense of embarrassed humility. And yet these writers had so much more to say than most of their young twenty-something counterparts.

Unlike the undergrad writing class I taught, where every other story involved a couple having an argument (inevitably over the phone or in a car), the seniors wrote about abandonment, war, immigration and domestic joy and strife.

Their stories offered surprises (and of course, some cliches) but they were eager to get their lives on paper. And yes, there were some raunchy stories (one male student always described his female characters' "bosoms") which when read out loud had to complete against the snoring of one student who could never remain awake for the entire two-hour workshop.

In retrospect, I loved my class. Hearing aids were more popular than Havaianas and when I asked them to bring in snacks for our last class, not one but two students brought in homemade Christmas cake. The students, who ranged in age from 70 to 92, were earnest, passionate and committed. Lorna Page would have fit right in.

Because Labour is No Excuse for Looking Bad

On the Jezebel site, they note the latest in over-priced and unnecessary fashion directed towards pregnant women: the birthing gown.

Called the Dar-a-Luz Maternity Gown (Spanish for "to give birth"), it's basically a $98 jersey dress made with 100% organic cotton.

According to the marketing copy, "You're a fashionista in every aspect of your life, why not when you are bringing new life into the world too?"

Um, maybe because you have more important things on your mind? Like, uh, giving birth?

Despite my disgust with the marketing, I have to admit, the dress is pretty. But even this admission makes me feel shallow.

Morgan Freeman "Real Good"

Morgan Freeman is feeling "real good" after being released from Elvis Presley Regional Medical Centre today at "12 noon Memphis time" (not to be confused with "Love Me Tender" time or Greenwich Mean Time).

Freeman, 71, was driving his lady friend's '97 Nissan Maxima on Sunday night when it rolled. His lady friend is 48.

Morgan Freeman, who is famous for playing, well, Morgan Freeman, will be wearing a neck brace for the next six months.

His wife, however, will likely be wearing half her husband's earnings after her divorce attorney is finished with him. It was confirmed today that the pair, married since 1984, will be parting ways.

I normally don't post gossip but I just really wanted you to know that Morgan Freeman press releases sound just like Morgan Freeman.

Stupid Things People Say to Pregnant Women

Before I was pregnant, I could usually be counted on to say things to pregnant women that, in retrospect, were entirely un-funny and/or stupid.

I share my former ignorance with you now, if only to save me from having to hear you repeat these same ridiculous comments.

It Must Be Awesome Not to Get Your Period for Nine Months
Oh yeah. 50 days of heavy to light bleeding are totally unbearable compared to a 100+ days of random fluids leaking into your underwear.

The other morning I was chatting to my husband when I realized I had a dribble of pee running down my thigh.

Being period-free is so glamorous.

Looking Bloated!
I actually used to say this to a pregnant coworker while pointing my finger at her like a schmuck.

The fact that I was completely jealous of her pregnancy and on some pretty heavy-duty drugs is no excuse.

A pregnant woman has a giant uterus taking up space previously occupied by her lungs, stomach, bowels and bladder. She is not bloated, or fat, or as one giant asshole recently called me "tubby." A pregnant woman is pregnant and the best way to acknowledge it is by offering her your goddamn seat on the bus.

You Look Tired
My husband and I debated this one the other week. He thinks that when people tell me I look tired they are expressing a genuine concern for my well-being.

I say bullshit.

Unless it's my boss directing me to leave work early so I can sleep, there is no concern being expressed. It's just damn rude to point out to someone that she looks haggard.

I look tired? Dude, I am tired. And guess what? Tired people are not the people you want to go insulting. I spent all night getting kicked and punched from the inside out. And now I have the privilege of having my appearance scrutinized?

How about I follow you around for a week, sucker-punching you every time you shut your eyes? But don't worry. I'll then tell you how exhausted you appear, proving that I really do have your best interests at heart.

Tyra Nominates Herself First Lady

In a creepy display of narcissism and idol-worshipping that even by Tyra's standards are over-the-top, Ms. Banks is in this month's Harper's Bazaar posing as Michelle Obama.

The photos are a terrifying display of Tyra's posing dictum: Look Angry.

Check out Harper's to see Tyra look like an angry madwoman reading to fearful children, an angry madwoman dressed in Harvard sweats post-coital and an angry madwoman pulling out her earring in order to stab her child with it.

Scary.

James Bond Meets Iron Chef

Over the course of two days on the beach, I read the latest installment of the James Bond series, The Devil May Care. Penned by Sebastian Faulks as Ian Flemming, the novel follows Bond through Iran as he tracks an evil dude with a deformed hand (it looks like a monkey paw).

Bond attempts to thwart monkey paw's plans to kick start a cold war, relying on a cast of American, British and Iranians characters to assist him.

If it seems like I am being light on details, it's because very little of this novel's plot, characters or themes made any kind of impression. That said, what more does one want from a beach read?

I have never read a Bond book before, so I am not sure how Faulks fares in capturing Flemming's voice. I suspect Faulks relies too heavily on descriptions of food (I could list every meal Bond eats or doesn't eat during his time in Tehran) while skipping nervously over more intimate encounters (it is still not clear to me if Bond actually has sex in this story or not).

Rules on caviar are expressed with the kind of heavy-handed glee novice researchers usually impart in their early novels (Gee, did you know caviar should smell like the sea, not like fish?) and it betrays an authorial insecurity about Bond's character.

That said, now having the sweet joy of imagining Daniel Craig shirtless in every scene made reading The Devil May Care a much more enjoyable beach experience than say, imagining Roger Moore taking on a dude with bad teeth.

Top Model Takes On Broadway: Charges Laid

America's Next Top Model mouthpiece Bianca (you know, the one who gave Asperger's a hard time) has been charged after getting into a fight with Hairspray star Nikki Blonsky.

Both D-listers were charged by cops in Turks and Caicos after Bianca challenged Nikki for blocking off five seats for her family in the crowded airport lounge. Blonsky's dad was also charged, for allegedly beating up Bianca's mom.

Note to self: do not challenge men from Louisiana.