My belly button is threatening to pop out. It's g-n-a-r-l-y.
At 32 weeks, I'm starting to struggle with being proud of my rotundity and the vain voice inside of me that thinks, "Who is this chub rock!?" I know it's temporary and part of me does think I look rather cute like this but I tried to put on shorts to sleep in last night and it was a big fat fail. Fat being the operative word.
I got pregnant with ZERO preconception about what this would be like. I knew nothing! I didn't know how long I could sleep on my belly (God I miss that!), I didn't know what food was off limits, and I certainly didn't understand what would be happening to my body.
But I've done my homework. I've read at least a dozen pregnancy and parenting books and they are dogeared and highlighted and I am ready...in theory. But none of the books tell us how to conceive of our changing bodies. Women's literature is chalk full of information that tells us how to be thinner, healthier, more svelte. Why is there no literature that helps us deal with being less thin?
There are two polar camps when in comes to pregnant women:
"I don't give a flying fart!" These mommies are like Jenny McCarthy who baked and ate an entire box of brownies per night in her third trimester. They embrace the license to splurge with admirable abandon.
"No, I'm definitely showing." These mommies don't look pregnant from any angle other than profile. They stay below 20 pounds up the entire pregnancy and most of them are terrible braggarts about it. Hate them.
I'm somewhere in the middle. I'm right on target on the weight gain chart but still trying to feel like myself. Getting dressed in the morning is my Everest every single day.
But what does "feeling like myself" mean anyway? In a few short weeks, I'll have a Mini Me and then I'll never be "myself" again anyway. I'll be a new self. I just hope that new self has an innie belly button like my old self.