(Innapropriate) Maternity Photos: Part II

READ PART I HERE!


I'm still obsessed with how pretty my maternity dress was.
 

I just can't seem to feel attractive when I'm throwing up, peeing my pants, and chronically constipated.
BUT, my photographer, Ashley, captured incredible pics that made me feel more beautiful than I ever have felt during a pregnancy.
(BTW, her instagram is magical: ashbridgewater.jpg)

I didn't want to take the dress off.
(The dress was made by Sew Trendy which is also magical. Don't be mad my high school friend owns the company.)

So I came up with a few more ideas to complete the photo shoot.

Ashley is a consummate professional but agreed to document my bad decisions.

I really don't know what to say about the following pictures.

We went to a famed Utah strip club off State Street.
I took a couple pics outside, because I didn't think the club managers would actually let me in to take pictures.

 It's amazing how good the photographs are considering Ashley and I couldn't stop laughing.


We walked inside and asked the super nice and super hot receptionist if I could embarrass myself.

She got the manager for us.

He was laughing super hard about my idea and said I could even get on a stage if I wanted.

WHAT?!?!

It's always been a childhood dream of mine to be a pregnant stripper in a fancy dress.

I guess Tuesdays are slow for strip clubs because there weren't that many guys there.
Which was totally fine since I already paid my bills that month.

Before I went in, I was a little worried the girls who worked there would be a little mad about me for basically making fun of their jobs.

Instead, the girls were totally laughing at the idea and helped us as much as they could.

They aren't dumb. They treat stripping as a means to an end and have no problem poking a little fun at it.

They gave me posing tips (even though I still look awkward af) and the burly 40-somthing-year-old bouncer fixed my gown so it would be especially beautiful.

 I try not to judge people but I really didn't expect all the girls and staff to be so funny, nice, and helpful.
Thanks pretty Salt Lake City strippers.


Next stop was one of my most favorite places in the world.

Taco Bell💗

Taco Bell was pretty much the only thing I ate this whole pregnancy. Baby #3 is practically made out of chicken chalupas and nachos with extra cheese, so I wanted to honor that.

 By the way, not only is Ashley Bridgewater a good photographer, but is also an excellent burrito eater. She was probably pretty popular in high school.

I really wanted my maternity photos to tell a story.
Something like, girl is pregnant, girl gets fancy dress, girl go to strip club, girl is hungry, girl eats chalupas, girl pees behind dumpster.

Do you know how hard it is to keep a straight face when you are laughing at how clever you are?

By the way, can I just say that I am so flattered and grateful that anyone reads my blog? Making people smile, laugh, or get seriously offended, fulfills me in ways you can't imagine.
So really. Thanks for reading.





P.S. If you are offended by anything here, please email me at emilybarlocker@yahoo.com so I can show my friends and save it in my "funny stuff" folder.

 Also I got a few other suggestions for the photo shoot, one having to do with a hanger and shop vac, so really, this could of been a lot worse. (You know who you are person that thought of that 💗.)

Contour Fail / Mustache Win

Have you ever watched the beauty guru channels on YouTube?
They are addicting-ly fabulous.

 NikkieTutorials

jeffreestar

Why am I so late to this enchanting party?

I love makeup. It hides my adult acne, my eyebrow situation, and my insecurity.
I wear makeup everyday. I feel better when I am all ready and put together. It makes me feel like I can handle the shitshow day. 


If I didn't pull myself together and looked like a dump, I would straight up sit on my couch all and make sweet love to Netflix.

When I was 18-20 I worked as a manager at Victoria's Secret Beauty. This was 10-12 years ago when 1/2 of the store was all makeup, lotion, and edible massage oil.

Everyone knew how to do makeup decently well, we were good enough to sell it.
This was before the internet, YouTube, and Sephora.


After watching these videos, I now see the error in my crappy makeup skills.

My 18-20 year old self is embarrassed.

Speaking of Sephora, almost every time we go, Titty Monkey Tyler sneaks $30 lipsticks and applies it all over his face, until I realize what he's doing.
Then I take a picture.

I mean, I could stop him, but why would I want to? 

It's precious.
The employees love us there.

I've been wanting to try the whole face contouring thing and bought this Anastasia Beverly Hills contour kit.
Mostly because it looked like it had buttloads of class.

(source)

It was so fancy that I felt like every time I handled it, I should have my pinky finger raised in the air.

I watched 327 contouring tutorials, took 6 hits of acid, said a prayer, and went to work.
And by acid, I mean goldfish crackers.


I tried hard, I really did.
But after 20 minutes of beauty blending I lost focus. Do people really take this long to put on foundation? I have butts to wipe, laundry to do, and a short attention span.

On a normal day I spend 10 minutes doing ALL my makeup. 

I felt like I had a thick layer of shellac on my face, but it still looked pretty much the same. I clearly need more talent than a makeup store at the mall afforded me.

I tried to redeem myself by doing sexy shimmer eye shadow but ended up looking like an amateur drag queen (which could have been awesome if I wasn't a stay at home mom).

I'm sure the Anastasia Beverly Hills contour kit is lovely, in the hands of a professional. 


Given Tyler's affinity for makeup, he stood and watched me fumble my way through my makeup.

It was so sweet because even though my face was a mess, he still asked me to put some on him.
It's like he loves me for who I am and not what I do.


When I was done with Tyler's summer glam look, he really wanted me to finish it off with a mustache.

Then he wanted me to finish mine with a mustache too.
My face was jacked up, so at this point a mustache could only help.
And it's not like I've never had a dirty sanchez before.

Next, he wanted "mom's other hair" and when I realized what he meant, I was glad it wasn't my pubes.

When I made him wash the makeup off, he totally over reacted.
He ran in his room and cried like an angry elf for 10 minutes.

At least Husband and I know that if we ever have a girl, she will be incredibly good looking.

Butt Slime

Having sweat in your butt crack is a humbling experience.

Anytime I get Swass, my brain starts thinking about how everyone around me must have Swass, and how we are all humans and we are all equal because we all have sweaty butts.

Swass. The great equalizer.

After I've inventoried people around me, I then select who must have the worst Swass and I feel sympathetic towards them.
Then, for the rest of the day I think about butts and curse my brain for being so disgusting.

Great. Now I am thinking about butts just cause I typed the word "Swass". There goes my day.


Cryin' Ryan  HATES any moisture between the cheeks. HATES it.

When he was younger and first starting to realize he had a butt, he would get very worried anytime he sweat in it.

He looked at me, horrified that this kind of injustice exists.

He was trying to get my help and explaining what was wrong.

"MOM! I HAVE BUTT SLIME! I'M SERIOUS! THERE IS REALLY SLIME COMING OUT OF MY B-HOLE!"

Then it was my turn to be horrified.

I hurried to the bathroom while he followed me all bow-legged and careful.
I was expecting the worst, as someone should when they are potentially dealing with a kid that says they are harboring butt slime.

I went to clean it up and there was nothing there.
I told him he was fine.
He would not accept my diagnosis and insisted I wipe off the slime.

That's when I realized what I was dealing with. Sweaty butt.

I dutifully wiped his crack like any good mother should.
Ryan appreciated it and felt he could go on living a normal life.

Now, anytime Swass rears is ugly head/butt, Ryan announces to the world he has butt slime. Literally yells it out.
This happens in public all. the. time.

He has no shame.
Soccer games are the worst.

We get a lot of grossed out/judgemental looks from other people.  I wish they were more tolerant of kids with sweaty rear ends.
The way our society discriminates against butt slime have-ers is appalling. 
Butt slime victims are humans too.

Both of my kids suffer from Swass. 

I hope this post brings more awareness to this awful problem.




(In the interest of full disclosure: this post is not sponsored by the Children's Butt Slime/Swass Foundation For Equality and Inclusion.)



P.S. I'm still thinking about butts.

Sloth Arm

Cryin' Ryan is a clever little kid.
He is funny, kind, and creative.

He is also foul, gross, and disgusting.


He is so creative/disgusting that every time he poops, he feels inspired to vividly describe it to me.

When I hear, "MOOOOOOOMMMMMM!!!!! CAN YOU WIPE MY BUTT?!?!?!?!"
I know three bad things are coming my way:

1. the actual wiping of the butt
2. an accurate description of his dump
3. the throw-up that comes up the back of my throat.

What's most disturbing is that his descriptions are usually detailed and correct.

Some of the most cringe-worthy portrayals of his dumps include:

• a battle axe
• a long neck dino
• beans
• corn on the cob with some kernels eaten off
• dead coral reef
• butt-mud

And of course the most recent and unsettling depiction:

• a sloth arm.

Let my say that again:

• A sloth. arm. 

Probs one of the grossest things I've ever heard.
I don't know if I'm up for boy-momming anymore. 


Now I need to go brush my teeth.

Meet Wolfy

Ryan is in a disturbing stage of life right now.

He is obsessed with Wolves.

When I ask him why, he tells me - "Wolves are legendary predators and they are carnivores. They hunt in packs and are nocturnal."
Then I have to get out a dictionary to find out what that means.

He gets mad when I refer to him as "Ryan" - and yells, "Mooommmm! I'm called Wolfy!!!!!!!!!"

He asks for meat every meal.
It's creepy.

He leaps around on all fours, even in public.... wait... especially in public.

I had to have a serious talk with him about that. I don't need any more reasons for child services to be called on me.

Wolfy constantly reminds me that we are a wolf family and we only do wolf things.

• We should howl at the moon. Or the sun. Or actually, just howl at everything
• No using your hands to eat since we don't have hands, we only have paws.
• It's totally fine to growl/hiss at things that piss you off.
• Wolf pups stay up late since wolf families don't pay heed to human rules.
• It's also completely OK to claw someone/anyone.
• Who cares if you're in public, you better act like the legendary wolf you are.
• We have to be alert in case any hunters come around. If you get scared you hide in a cardboard box or behind the couch.
• We have to lift up one leg for a truly authentic pee session.

Good thing wolf pups are cute.

I fully expect him to come home after his first semester of college with a majestic wolf tattoo and no friends.

So that's where I'm at in my life right now.  

Polygamist Chic

I've got 99 problems, but a Halloween costume ain't one.

I found this Polygamist style dress in my mom's costume closet last year.

I have been spiritually bonded with it ever since.

I knew the universe had put this dress in my path for a reason, and that reason was for me to wear it on Halloween.

But last year as Halloween approached, my mom totally betrayed me (and the dress) by lending it out to someone else.
In Utah, Polygamist dresses like this are in high demand.
My 2014 Halloween was ruined and I had to be a crappy skeleton.

I wasn't about to lose the dress again, so I stole it, hid it in the back of my closet, rubbed my face against it everyday, and patiently waited for an entire year to wear it again.

My parent's costume party was last weekend, and I knew my special moment had arrived.

When it come to anything inappropriate or offensive, I like to think of myself as an overachiever.
I knew the most important part of a Sister-Wife costume was the hair, so I was going to do it the best I could.

While searching for ideas I came across one of the most magical YouTube videos I have ever had the pleasure of viewing:

Did you notice the uplifting music in the background?!? Probably not, since you were too busy taking notes.

I also got a few more style tips from this life changing blog:

Polygamy Chic

By the time I was all dressed and ready to go I couldn't even look in the mirror. I was a little ashamed/giddy that I looked so authentic. I probably have Sister-Wife blood running through my veins.

You know how some girls dress up as a slutty version of whatever they are for Halloween, like a slutty cop, a slutty witch, a slutty Disney princess, or a slutty mom?

Well, I thought about modifying the costume to be the slutty version of a Sister-Wife but I was already showing my ankles and Jared could barely keep his hands off of me as it was:

Look at my shoes and nervous face.

This picture maybe took it a little to far.

I could not even handle myself by the end of night.

When I tried to have serious conversations I knew there was nothing I could say that would distract people from the fact that I had on a fancy lace bib/collar.

It was especially awesome that Jared and I were the only adults really dressed up. 

BTW, does anyone know where I can meet hot young polygamist singles (or married, whatever...) in my area?



Note: While I have deep respect for religious freedom and individual's agency, I reserve the right to make fun of clothing and awesome hairstyles as I see fit.

Hunting with Rocks

Ryan is no longer a terrible three-nager so Husband actually likes to hang out with him again.

Jared took Ryan camping for some serious father-son bonding. We want Ryan to be a "MAN" so camping is fundamental step.
I also bought him Man-boots that are hardcore and perfect for outdoor stuff.
When I gave them to him he squealed like a girl, immediately put them on, looked at himself in the mirror, then skipped around the house while giggling. It was all very manly.

They left and I got to stay home and relax.

Just kidding. 1 1/2 year old Tyler was with me so I spent my night chasing him at a children's museum. Fun! For real though. Utah county has the best people watching ever. I even brought my sunglasses so I could stare creepily without being arrested.


Jared and Pee-Pre-schooler had a ton of fun.

They chopped wood for a fire.

Ate alarming amounts of marshmallows.

Lit marshmallows on fire then stomped on them.

Ryan spotted a rabbit down the mountain and insisted Jared drive him there so he could hunt it...... with rocks. Ryan gathered up some lethal rocks and insisted he sit in the back of the Razor so he could throw better. WTF. 

Of course Jared took him.

They got home Saturday. I teach Ryan's class at church every Sunday, so I started prepping. I opened the manual and saw the lesson topic:

I Can Be Kind to Animals. Perfect. 

I read through it and turned the page to make copies of the coloring sheet provided.

I gave the lesson the next day. As I explained that we should be kind to animals, Ryan told the class it's also fun to kill them with rocks. Especially rabbits.

And to jack up the lesson even more, Ryan also told everyone how we killed a squirrel with a pellet gun a week ago then poked it with sticks.

I'm still expecting a few calls from the other children's parents.
I plan on not answering them.

Hungry For Vomit

I think I've established the fact that I am nasty.
My personal habits are nasty.
My thoughts are nasty.
My friends are nasty.
My extended family is nasty.
My kids are nasty.
My whole life is nasty.

A recent incident has taken my life's nastiness to an entirely new level.

When Ryan was a baby and I switched his car seat to face forward, he would get car sick.
For an entire summer, anytime I drove longer than 30 minutes in the car, he would barf curdled milk everywhere.
I was working for the Boys and Girls Club summer program and we had field trips every Friday usually in Los Angeles. I drove my own car so I wouldn't have to sit on the bus for an hour with screaming kids and this one super annoying staff member Cynthia. She was the worst.

Anyway, every Friday Cryin' Ryan would end up puking, I would pull over, spend 30 minutes cleaning it up, change him into new clothes, and show up at the destination with my boss asking why Ryan smelt like rotting protein.

It was awful.
That curdled milk baby throw-up smells amazingly bad.

Fast forward to a couple weeks ago. I switch Tyler's car seat around and now he starts puking too. My psyche had barely healed from all Ryan's barf 3 years ago.

Tyler's car sickness threshold is low and he's been puking almost every time we drive anywhere. It's so frequent that I don't even pull over anymore. When he vomits, I just hand him some wipes and he tries to clean it up himself. He doesn't cry and it doesn't seem to bother him much.

My car permanently stinks like 1,000 rotting squirrel carcasses.

Then one day, T-bag started eating it.

This is so nasty, I don't even know what to say. Look at how happy he is.

Except it was polite that he offered some to Ryan, and Ryan graciously declined. #Proudparent


P.S. Don't get all judgy that I may or may not have been recording a video while driving my car. We were in my neighborhood with no cars/people around and I was going slow. Plus I haven't gotten in a car wreck for like 5 years, so settle down.

Meat Seller

Herriman, Utah is infested with door to door salesmen.
It's a nice city with a ton of new, beautiful houses so they think they are going to hit the jackpot here.

A lot Mormon boys go on a two year mission when they turn 18 year old. In a sense, they spend those 2 years selling religion door to door, so when they are tasked with selling lawn care or window washing it is no big deal.

They are used to people answering the door in pajamas and annoyed, and having doors slammed in their faces,
Mormon missionaries are masters of hard work and brushing things off. That is why a ton of them take awful sales jobs when they return.


This summer there were days when 3-4 salesmen would ring my doorbell. Seriously.

I get super pissed off because I have to hurry and put on a bra before I answer the door.

I hate being bothered. And I hate answering the door to strangers when I'm home alone with the kids. Ever heard of the BTK killer? Google it.
But if something crazy ever happened I would 2nd amendment them so bad.

I never buy anything from these guys because I am too cheap and I do everything myself.

I understand these jerk-offs are just doing their jobs but screw them. I'm basically polite to them but I especially hate it when they try to use dumb sales tactics after I already told them no.


I had to hang a mean sign to get some peace and quiet.

The day after I hung my mean sign, my doorbell rang!!!!!!

I peeked out the window and saw a large 40-something year old man. He looked beat up.
Husband was home but there was no way I was opening the door, so I cracked the window. He was standing super close to the door and then moved right next to the window after I opened it.

He says: Do you enjoy delicious red meats?
I'm selling some of the freshest meat you will ever taste.

I was thinking, human meat?

He was parked in our driveway. He had a white rapist van with no windows. It had Texas license plates. creepy.

Who parks in a driveway if you are selling door to door? Rapists, that's who.
Normal people park at the end of the street and just walk to each house.

I did not want anything to do with this dude or his delicious meats.

I went and got Jared so Creepy Meat-Man would know my husband was home. When Jared went to the door, Meat-Man hurried and backed away from the porch.

Husband denied the fresh meat also and the dude left quickly. I didn't see him go to any of the other houses on my street.

I also noticed my no soliciting sign was missing, like he tore it off.

I may be a little paranoid but that is amazingly creepy, right?

Never open your door to scary men.