holy crap: 24 weeks pregnant
My tummy magically popped overnight. I came in to work today and everyone is talking about my bump. Now begins the incessant belly-touching. I’ve never been a huggy or touchy-feely person so I’m not thrilled when someone puts their man hands all over the belly and rubs it like a genie is going to come flying out of my ass and grant them a wish. Whatever. I’m sure they can feel me tense up when they do it so maybe they’ll get the hint.
This morning I struggled to put on a pair of my regular pants and confirmed the fact that I cannot even do up the zipper on them so I might as well forget it. I went to Old Navy last night because they have a maternity section. Oh man, those are some of the ugliest clothes I have ever seen! I ended up buying 2 more pairs of black yoga pants and some shirts a size or two bigger than my usual in the regular department and figure I can get by on that. There is no way in hell I am going to spend $60 on a pair of maternity pants that I will only wear a few times. No one at work has noticed that I have been wearing yoga pants anyways.
I still don’t really have any major complaints except that my belly button, which is slowly being forced out of itself, is feeling a little tender. Avery seems to be swimming around happily, using my cervix and bladder as her own personal trampolines. I am happy to report that, like her mummy, she really likes Cadbury Mini Eggs, so we eat those on a fairly regular basis. It makes us both happy.
I have a doctor’s appointment on Friday; just the usual pee in a cup and listen to the baby’s heartbeat appointment. Although I am not looking forward to getting the evil eye if I have not gained an “acceptable” amount of weight yet. Though judging from the belly, I think it is safe to assume that I have put on a few pounds. (Go Avery!)
So that’s it. I’m still fielding idiotic questions from coworkers and putting up with their insensitive comments, but I have stopped caring. As far as I’m concerned, people who spend as much time as they do discussing soap operas and being ‘intrigued’ by the details of the latest Anna Nicole Smith news report don’t really have much going on up in the old brain department anyway. I could roll around in a vat of mud making oinking sounds in front of these people and still not give a shit what they thought.
In other words, fuck it, if Avery’s happy then I’m happy.
This morning I struggled to put on a pair of my regular pants and confirmed the fact that I cannot even do up the zipper on them so I might as well forget it. I went to Old Navy last night because they have a maternity section. Oh man, those are some of the ugliest clothes I have ever seen! I ended up buying 2 more pairs of black yoga pants and some shirts a size or two bigger than my usual in the regular department and figure I can get by on that. There is no way in hell I am going to spend $60 on a pair of maternity pants that I will only wear a few times. No one at work has noticed that I have been wearing yoga pants anyways.
I still don’t really have any major complaints except that my belly button, which is slowly being forced out of itself, is feeling a little tender. Avery seems to be swimming around happily, using my cervix and bladder as her own personal trampolines. I am happy to report that, like her mummy, she really likes Cadbury Mini Eggs, so we eat those on a fairly regular basis. It makes us both happy.
I have a doctor’s appointment on Friday; just the usual pee in a cup and listen to the baby’s heartbeat appointment. Although I am not looking forward to getting the evil eye if I have not gained an “acceptable” amount of weight yet. Though judging from the belly, I think it is safe to assume that I have put on a few pounds. (Go Avery!)
So that’s it. I’m still fielding idiotic questions from coworkers and putting up with their insensitive comments, but I have stopped caring. As far as I’m concerned, people who spend as much time as they do discussing soap operas and being ‘intrigued’ by the details of the latest Anna Nicole Smith news report don’t really have much going on up in the old brain department anyway. I could roll around in a vat of mud making oinking sounds in front of these people and still not give a shit what they thought.
In other words, fuck it, if Avery’s happy then I’m happy.
posted by vegan mum at 1:49 PM
1 Comments:
yoga pants are the way to go. I lived in them until I squirted the girls out. Old Navy is hit or miss... I am not a fan of their garage sale 'Boho' clothing line they have out now. Looks like gypsy hippy junk. I found alot of nice shirts and blouses and shit at Motherhood and Thyme Maternity stores. I refused to wear the jeans with the elastic panel. Ugly.
I had the strict rule of 'no touching the belly' unless you were the father. Even my mom wasnt allowed, although I think I allowed her to feel the girls kicking at one point because they were both going and I wanted her to see what it was like to have 4 feet kicking instead of just two. But it was only that one time.
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