Flamingo Fetus

When I sleep, it tends to be in one of two positions: curled up in the middle of the bed in a fetal position, or on my stomach with one leg stretched out and the other bent up so that my left foot is touching the right knee. Like a flamingo stands.


I was thinking about this last night as I tried to fall asleep. What makes some people find these positions? Why do I sleep like an idling flamingo or a floating pre-human? In my almost-sleep, I contemplated the nature of both stances, both beings, both concepts. Both flamingos and fetuses live in, I would guess, relatively warm, moist, places. I mean, I've been to both. Florida and the womb, I mean. I remember Florida slightly more vividly than the womb, but I tend to think of Florida as only DIsney World, thus what my brain lets me recall from my experiences there is generally inconsequential. I try to block things like Disney World out. And yet, I'll probably go again one day when my niece is old enough to appreciate it, yet young enough to miss the creep factor. Or, if Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers ever do another hometown tour in Gainesville when I have money.

The womb, where, actually, my niece is now, seems like a great place. I really wish I could remember the womb. Floating around, not even having to breathe for myself. That's the life. Or maybe it's stressful. I don't know. I was, you know, working. I was making myself into a human. All I know is that it must have been pretty jarring to leave that little cocoon and be thrust into a blinding hospital operating room, doctors trying to free me from the cord wrapped around my neck. Whoa, sailor!, I must have thought. Quit smackin' my ass, you have to buy me dinner first! I don't just cry for anybody!

Thank Dog he or she was persistent though. Otherwise I would not have begun breathing, which means I still wouldn't be breathing, which means I'd be dead. I wouldn't be writing this, and I surely wouldn't have ever developed my avian nocturnal stance. Or anything else for that matter. And when I'm really pressed to make a decision, I think I might have to say that the flamingo way of sleep has got to be my favorite. It takes up less room I think, which probably makes David happy. It probably promotes better posture. And, who knows, maybe I look sexy with my one leg all flexed like a graceful dancer. A flamenco dancer, perhaps.

My mom still talks about our trip to Spain and reminds me of the night I got drunk watching the "Flamingo" dancers.

I think flamingos, or flamenco dancers, are way sexier than fetuses. More graceful. More mature. More worldly. Pinker.