Queen of My Castle

Posted by: , August 25, 2009 in 1:34 am


sexandthesippy 11 Queen of My CastleI’m not a jealous woman. My husband has never strayed. At the same time, I know not to tempt the fates; anyone can end up the center of an All My Children-esque drama.

We just moved to Montreal, a city of charm, multicultural living, and great baguettes. I’d enjoy it more but at 36 weeks pregnant, walking makes my vagina feel like it’s stretching like an overstuffed leather tote. And I waddle just a bit. Being a full-time work-at-home mom means I need help during the day so I took it upon myself to interview nannies.I thought I’d found my dream babysitter in 22 year-old Sophie (names have been changed to protect the innocent) until a conversation with a wise friend. She posed the question: Is it really wise to have a young, hot, Frenchie giggling and prancing girl, her recreational breasts sitting high and perky underneath her fitted top while I go through the end stages of pregnancy and embark on the glory that is a post-partum body and hormones?

Even if I trust my husband, which I do, why even have that around?  By the end of the conversation I’d come to my senses. I adore Sophie and looked forward to her starting but must protect my throne. I consider myself a beautiful (most days), glowing pregnant woman…kinda…but let’s face it, I’m not going to get on America’s Next Top Model anytime soon and it’s annoying enough to see svelte figures and fully made up faces on television, much less in real life.

So the nanny search continues.

Seeking: One unfortunate looking bilingual nanny.

xox SATS

 

 

 


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