Oct
7
October 7, 2007
We went back to the Jubilee Farm this weekend (sadly, there was no hot trebuchet action during our visit, although there were small squealing piglets and also about a bajillion chickens that terrified Riley with their slow, menacing Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawk sounds, so in terms of non-gourd entertainment all was not lost), and now our house is filled with pumpkins. Man, I love October.
Oct
4
October 4, 2007
My belly is, perhaps not surprisingly, growing. It now protrudes from the front of my body in what is starting to seem like a comical manner, and I feel like I should have a little red warning flag taped to my navel. At 21 weeks I don’t yet feel lumberingly huge, but things are definitely different. For instance, taking large deep breaths? Not really an easy option any more, unless I’m doing so in order to swallow the maximum amount of Haagen-Dazs Mint Chip ice cream.
Certain outfits highlight the belly much more than others, I’ve noticed. Remember when Katie Holmes was knocked up and there were all those rumors in the tabloids about how she was faking it with a stunt belly because Tom Cruise is a gay robot, and their proof was in the photos that showed her looking extremely pregnant one day, not so much the next? Or maybe you remember no such thing because you don’t read trashy celeb-whore magazines, FINE, but anyway, now I know exactly what was going on there, it was her clothes. I have a t-shirt that completely hides the belly altogether, and I also have a dress that makes me look like I’m about to give birth; it’s all about the maternity wear and whether it conceals or reveals. Plus, there’s the Gassy Factor. I’m just saying, a meal involving beans can totally contribute to the overall girth/circumference issue.
Pregnant bodies are completely crazy-looking. On one hand, I find them beautiful and amazing and downright glorious, on the other, my GOD. I sometimes just stare at myself in the mirror at night, marveling over the weirdness of having one body part that appears to be suffering from an extreme case of elephantiasis. It seems like I’m carrying higher this time, because my belly starts curving outward starting from the middle of my ribs, and basically without a lot of structured foundation garments in place that means my boobs just lie on top of my stomach like . . . well, like fleshy hors d’oeuvres on a bulbous pink serving platter. I know, I know, could I be any more sexy and appealing? Maybe if I talk about gas some more.
You’d think these body changes would be familiar to me, but I’m startled all over again by the transformation. It’s like feeling the baby move, I think I could be pregnant a thousand more times (well, not literally) and never get used to how bizarre it feels to have something kicking me from the INSIDE. I never sit back and think tender thoughts about the baby moving around inside my body, I always think of that scene in Alien.
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