Well, I'm just going to let it all hang out.
Because already my pants don't fit. And because the other day a clerk at the store said "Congratulations!" and I was all, sorry? Until she looked at my little pouchy belly and I realized I LOOK PREGNANT. Already.
Which is a ridiculous thing to be complaining about, seeing as how the first time around I couldn't wait to show and to show off. I tried to explain it to Jason, which made it sound even more ridiculous, but it's like it can't be real yet... Because it's not baby bump, it's lasagna-and-pancakes-and-cheesecake-for-dinner bump. So, great: I just look thick, and my belly button has popped out too, making an irresistible lift-the-shirt-and-poke-the-bump game for Auden, who recently discovered that We All Have a Belly Button.
"Is this partially hormonal?" Jason asked, meaning my concern about it, not the actual pouch itself.
Humph. I'm hungry. Let's go shopping.
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1 comment:
YE GADS. Why do husbands not realize that that kind of question is NEVER the right way to go? What, you think reducing my complex inner emotional turmoil to a microbiological level is going to help you out in some way? My reaction is going to be oh, yes, you're right - I'll just ignore my conflicted feelings about my quickly changing body form because it's just all molecules anyway. Pssht. "Is it hormonal? - I'LL give you hormonal, mister, when I'm good and ready. THIS is me, just me in all my multifaceted glory."(huffs,exasperated, and stomps away)
p.s. oooo!Baby bump! (waffles, teeters, falls)
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