This post is dedicated to everyone who’s been complaining that I haven’t posted any pregnancy shots. (Besides the belly shots on B-Sides, anyway.) After this post, you may officially quit your whining.
Saturday: I realize that my legs don’t fit so well into my jeans anymore. Crushing reality. Hate all my alternatives. Start feeling like the pregnant Kate Gosselin.
Except without the happy smile.
Sunday: Chris tells me that the shirt I’m wearing makes me look much less pregnant and really cute. Look in the mirror. He has a point – it DOES minimize the belly. Thank goodness for the power of suggestion.
Start feeling like the pregnant Heidi Klum.
Well, okay, maybe not. No REAL human looks THAT good pregnant.
But wear said minimizing shirt for the next two days.
Then wear similar shirt for the next two days.
Then do the laundry so that I can rinse and repeat.
Wednesday : Go to the doctor, step on the scale. Gasp and then die from shock from the obviously-must-be-please-tell-me-it-is-malfunctioning-no-human-gains-that-much-weight-in-three-weeks scale.
THEN Noah gets measured, and he measures one week behind schedule, meaning that all of that ghastly amount of weight went straight into my hips. And face.
Immediately feel like the Octamom.
Need to find some way to comfort myself. That doesn’t involve caloric intake.
Thursday: Found a winter non-maternity shirt in the back of my closet (obviously a very long, flowy one) that looked halfway decent on. Good thing, too, since I have few winter maternity shirts and I’m not about to buy a whole new wardrobe for the remaining 8.5 weeks of percolating.
…Except that the fading effect on that shirt looks exactly like what’s underneath it: stretch marks.
My emotions will be so happy when I’m no longer a baby-growing Petri Dish.