Tonight is the big night. Manchester United is taking on Arsenal at the Emirates Stadium for the 2nd leg of the Champions League Semi-Finals. After we demolish the Gunners at their own pitch, we’ll be moving on to whip Chelsea (I hope it’s not Barca) in the Finals.
I have to explain my fascination for soccer. It all started way back in 2000 when Italy took on France for the Euro finals. A bunch of girlfriends decided to come over to my place to check out the cute Italian dudes, and I’d reluctantly agreed to watch 22 men chasing ball like a horde of wildebeests.
But when they zoomed in for a close up of Fabio Cannavaro (who still tops my list of hottest soccer players), I was hooked.
Along the way, I fell in love with the game (and the muscular men all decked out in their soccer garb). There’s all that sweat and testosterone oozing out, complete with masculine grunts. When you watch good soccer, it’s like poetry in motion. Magic.
It’s a myth that only men love to watch soccer. There are plenty of reasons for moms to be a soccer fanatic.
1. Entertainment in your living room.
Being a stay home mom, entertainment options are limited, to say the least. I’m cooped up at home with a kid all day and night, so it’s a good thing I’ve got the telly for company. But with the vast array of trashy programs monopolizing the prime-time slots, soccer is often the best there is, which brings me to my next point.
It’s the only chance to blatantly ogle at ribbed muscles and tight butts in front of the husband. On a good day, you even get to sneak a peek at their washboard abs when they yank off their shirt with a flourish after scoring a goal. Just make sure you hold a bowl of popcorn so your drool doesn’t collect on the floor.
3. Soccer Barbie
On match days, you get to dress the entire family up in matching soccer jerseys in a show of solidarity. Once you get past the cheese, there’s nothing cuter than dressing the kids up in the tiny jerseys and knee-high socks.
4. Midnight Snacking
It’s the perfect excuse to load up on chips and soda in the middle of the night. So totally sinful, but oh-so-good. And with the occasional ice-cold beer thrown in, the snacks alone is reason enough to be up at 2.30 in the morning.
Posted in hot stuff, love bites
Tagged adebayor, arsenal, barcelona, champions league, chelsea, emirates stadium, euro finals, fabio cannavaro, gunners, manchester united, ronaldo, rooney, semi-finals, soccer, soccer mom, walcott, world cup
I’m well into the third trimester of my pregnancy, and this is where the fun really begins. The first two trimesters are easy-peasy. You hardly even notice that you’re pregnant and you’re still able to resume around 95% of your normal activities (cravings notwithstanding). But now, all the pregnancy symptoms are in full swing and ALL I WANT TO DO IS GIVE BIRTH.
I don’t walk anymore. I have to get around by waddling, which makes me look like a fat duck. The stomach is getting heavier by the day, my back is breaking, my legs are cramping up, I’m retaining water (and fats) like a reservoir, my formerly-tight ass is ballooning out of proportion and worst of all, I am losing my ability to sleep. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. There’s also incontinence, carpal tunnel syndrome, cellulite and stretch marks to deal with postpartum.
If you think about it, insomnia is one of the biggest ironies of pregnancy. I mean, there will be no more sleeping after the baby is born, so there should be some mechanism to allow the body to hibernate and store up on sleep just before the delivery. In fact, I should be retiring into a cave for the next 3 months and sleeping the winter away.
Last night was like the turning point. I was up at 2.30 in the morning developing ulcers watching Manchester United struggle at home against Porto. (GAH!) After which, I lay in bed tossing and turning till 6.45 waiting for Tru to wake up. I hate insomnia. The harder I try to fall asleep, the more awake I feel, and it’s so insanely frustrating. Besides, the whole counting sheep thing is rubbish. I reached up to 6,245,953 sheep before I decided that it was futile.
I’ve still got 14 weeks to go, and now that I think about it, it’s a really long time. Although, I suppose it would make it easier if I could just lie in bed all day with servants feeding me grapes and massaging my toes while I catch up on Grey’s Anatomy. (hint, hint)
Posted in pregnancy
Tagged backache, cellulite, champions league, counting sheep, cramps, cravings, give birth, grey's anatomy, hibernate, incontinence, insomnia, labor, manchester united, porto, servants, third trimester, water retention