I’m not posting a picture of how my body looks like a watermelon being balanced by two toothpicks. Paranoia has currently taken over and I have the strange feeling people want to gawk and laugh at my fat rolls. When I hear comments about how pregnant women look, it’s never “Oh, look how cute she looks”; instead, it’s always “She just looks fat” or “It looks like a muffin top.” And I can’t handle that right now.
I’ve been more self-conscious of how I look. I’m getting tired of waddling ever since my hips loosened (I don’t understand how they’re still physically attached to my body). I can’t imagine my stomach getting any bigger than it is now. My bat wing underarms are flabby no matter how much I try to tone them with weights. My feet are swollen and my shoes feel too tight. My joints keep popping. I feel like a giant, 3D Jello jiggler in the shape of a pear. Honestly, when I look in the mirror head-on, I can’t really tell I’m pregnant. But it looks really apparent when I check out my side profile. I was happy for that at least. Then, when I expressed my insecurities to my husband, he goes, “Everyone gains fat all over their body when they’re pregnant. It’s normal.” (Tip: never say what he just said.) That was NOT the answer I was expecting. Apparently I’ve gained fat all over, and the fat rolls around my fat eyes made me fail to see how much of a fatty I actually was. And that is how I began my two day crying spell over my enormous, blob-like body. Better late than never.
As for the little baby, she is currently the size of a papaya. So I went to the grocery store to look at papayas. Even the smallest papaya was HUGE! I looked at it…then looked at my belly…then looked at it again. How it manages to fit inside of me, I don’t know. A really freaky thing that’s been happening the past couple weeks was seeing my stomach MOVE when the baby kicked. Every time I see it happen, I revert back to the image of an alien popping out of that guy’s stomach in that movie. I know, not the warmest, cuddly image you want right now. I’m waiting to see a toe stick out of my belly button each time it happens.
I should be gushing over how cute this is and stuff. I’m not a gushy, oohing and aahing sort of person. Though, I am relieved each time the baby kicks because it reminds me that she’s there, moving, and rambunctious. I also think it’s funny when she plays games with daddy and hides when his hand is over my belly.
So that’s what’s going on with that.