A Second Opinion

So I have this friend who I may not always lovingly refer to on this site which makes me feel like a bad person, but I think that I would not be her friend if I did not have a place to vent my frustrations with her. She really does have a special place in my world even if she is one of the most irritating people in the universe. Anyway, if you know who I am talking about and go to her and tell her that I have been slandering her all over the Interweb I will find you and rough you up a bit. Actually more than a bit, a lot. And it will hurt. I am a Mafia Princess you know.....

Now you may remember this friend. Her husband asked me if I thought he was pompous (which he is). Her kid is a pain in the ass, and she likes to say things to me like, "You guys really need a new house, or a maid" (really, I hadn't noticed), and "You can do that when Abby is a little better behaved" (really, because my kid is not the one dismantling the carnival ride). She says a lot of things without thinking, and she is just kind of an asshole.

Anyway, this friend is expecting baby #3 in March. She has 2 boys and I am still not sure why she is continuing to procreate. Her soon-to-be doctor husband is never around, and is useless when he is around. Her boys are a handful- as 2 kids can be, but now she is adding a 3rd into the fray. So a few weeks ago she went to her husband's hospital and had him do an ultrasound for her. Hooray, she is having a girl! She fired up that credit card faster than the speed of light to start buying anything pink she could get her hands on. She started planning a new nursery, picking out names, telling everyone she is having a girl, the whole bit.
So she goes on Monday for her official ultrasound and oops, Baby Girl was misdiagnosed or she grew a penis.

The depression that has taken over this woman is mild, yet astounding. She always said she wanted boys. That had to be a defense mechanism or something with the way she tears up when Nora is wearing a dress or she looks at the pink baby bedding in Target. Part of me feels bad for her, but I really feel bad for the fetus. HE has to suffer being the girl who never was. Poor thing.

I think the funniest part of this whole mess is that her pompous ass of a husband was wrong in his diagnosis, and it is his specialty. Or maybe the funniest part is the excuses she makes for her husband being wrong. Or maybe it really isn't funny and I am just being mean. Nah, it couldn't be that.