How Many More Months?
Okay, over the past two days I have officially graduated to the, “Who the hell decided pregnancy needed to last ten months?” stage. My belly has grown astronomically in the past week. I am not kidding; now when I go through doorways or hang a sharp turn down an aisle at a store or in a hallway at home, either my breasts or my belly decide to make contact with said item! And standing in line at the Post Office? How many more people want to jab me in the ass/breast/hip, please? I know I’m hanging out every which way, but some of you aren’t exactly stick insects, either!
In addition to my alarmingly morphing proportions, I also feel like I’ve aged about ten years in a matter of months: my right hip hurts; my left shoulder has a torn rotator cuff or something that mimics said ailment; my post-op knee feels loose/”fishy”; I can sleep until ungodly hours during the day but can’t sleep through the night to save my life, etc.
So, yeah, I finally get the whole “angry pregnant lady” thing because that’s what I’ve unconsciously adopted when out in public. As a bonus, that same facade also seems to keep the “belly feelers” away from the no-fly-zone of my belly!
I’ve had a really easy pregnancy up to this point, so I’m not going to complain too loudly about “How many more months do I have to wait, again?” I was just hoping I’d make it to my third trimester before I began feeling like the Goodyear blimp (only ever so less buoyant!)
I never in my life thought I would be shopping for a 38DD bra. In fact, opening the package today I actually conned myself into thinking, “Yeah, right! I’ll have to send these back, they’ll swallow me!” No, Shannon, apparently you do indeed need a 38DD over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder (Thank you, Bette Midler and “Otto Titsling“)!
I guess this is how it begins… the complete and utter loss of all dignity that is parenthood has officially begun! And the only way a male could relate is if all of his equipment swelled up to three times its normal size in all aspects and stayed that way for half a year; prodigious amounts of hair popped up where he didn’t want it, and fell off everywhere he did want it; his sex drive was either non-existant or off the scale high at the same time his body was geometrically incompatible with most sexual positions anyone outside of the Cirque du Soleil could pull off safety…
Yeah, these last 109 days of pregnancy are gonna be a real hoot!
P.S. Thank you, Noah, for the anniversary photo dedication. Let me know if our Christmas card makes it across the pond successfully to you guys!
