Well gang, it's official. I'm a god damn whale. My belly has popped out and I can no longer fudge it. Even my bigger jeans don't fit. I was in the bath yesterday reading a magazine and having the time of my life when I looked down and saw my swollen belly protruding out of the water like a sad little patch of land marooned after a hurricane. I'm still not used to this whole business and I doubt I will be. June can't come soon enough! I find myself throwing a longing eye toward every Cross-Fit, MMA or Pilates studio I pass, wishing I could pop in and join the sweaty masses. I design entire workouts only to get to the weight room and realize I can't perform half the activities due to their need of a prone position. I look at the fitness magazines that come in to my mailbox month after month and sigh at the physiques that used to look like a slightly better version of me. Now they're so far out of my ball park, a carrier pigeon couldn't reach them. Yes folks, fat girl depression has officially hit me. :(
Here's the evidence (I also included a front shot for the most offense)
BUT march forward we shall (mainly due to a lack of any other choice). I've discovered another thing about pregnancy that nobody seems to remember but haunts me on a daily basis. Side stitch-like pains. You know how you sometimes get side stitches when you're running a long distance? We were taught in gym class to "walk it out" and raise our arms above our heads or breathe deeply into the area while pushing it with our fingers. Yeah, well imagine that, minus the running. In fact, minus any modicum of activity. I lift up my butt in bed to turn over BAM! horrible stitch. I take the 7 steps out my door necessary to reach my mailbox BAM! stitch. I laugh too hard...you got it. Stitch. And they're MISERABLE. Residing somewhere between the lighting speed of a stitch's first hit to the lasting pain of a charlie horse.
Here's something else sexy for all of you still considering this nonsense. I discovered on Saturday that I now pee when I sneeze. SH took me to Starbucks for an iced tea and as we're pulling out of the parking lot on our way to what I believe will be a lovely day at the park - "AaaCHOOOO! *gasp* OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!" It was nice he didn't laugh but instead offered up a helpful suggestion "Check the glove box, I think there may be some napkins in there" then turned his head while I used them. This I was warned about but was sure it wouldn't come on until at LEAST month 8. I will be buying Poise pads at my next opportunity. Pregnant and an octogenarian, apparently. Awesome.
I'm really not experiencing anything that would ever make me say "Being pregnant was amazing" as I've heard so many women say. To me. On a daily basis. Everywhere. Not "having a baby come out after dealing with all that bullshit was amazing", no. The PREGNANCY was amazing. I'm just not sure why this is great. The belly rubs? The extra attention from strangers? I'm really not sure why anyone does this more than once. It's like that scary ass roller coaster your brother (thank you, A) talks you into at the amusement park. You're super super scared but he's calling you a pussy and he's 5 years younger than you, so what are you going to do? You muster every last ball in your arsenal, hop on try not to shit yourself all the way up the hill. Half way down that hill you fall somewhere between blacking out, complete hysteria and throwing up. When you finally get off the blasted machine, his little face is exuberant. "Wasn't that awesome??? I told you! Want to do it again???". You sit and stare at him for a moment wondering if you could kill him right there without your parents knowing. Then you punch him in the stomach and turn, feeling only slightly better as you head to go get yourself a funnel cake.