Last week I went to Publix and the bagger literally pointed at my stomach and said “Congratulations!” Now, I’m not saying that I don’t look pregnant – I do – and, of course, I would much rather have someone assume I’m pregnant as opposed to simply just packing on the extra pounds, but I was still slightly horrified. No one should ever accuse a woman they don’t know (or even one they do) of being pregnant. I think that when you actually spot a baby coming out of my nether regions THEN you can safely assume I’m pregnant … and not a moment sooner. And I’m sure that almost all women would be with me on this one. Being falsely accused of being pregnant is one of the most heinous crimes that could possibly be committed. Even if you are absolutely convinced a woman is knocked up I assure you – it’s just not worth the risk to say anything. (Although I should note that a former boss of mine recently informed our VP that I was “pregnant, not just fat” and I thought that was probably not the best choice of words either. I dunno, call me overly sensitive but ...)
Perhaps part of the reason I took this seemingly harmless remark about my obvious “pregnant-ness” so hard is that I’m still in complete denial that my belly is growing so rapidly. For some reason my brain hasn’t registered this – or refuses to process it – whichever. I just keep acting surprised when my stomach gets in the way of things. I knock into my kitchen counters when I’m trying to reach for something that is now, thanks to my tummy, clearly out of reach. I am thoroughly amazed when I can’t bend over easily. Heck, I even knocked some poor guy in the head with my belly when I tried to shimmy between two closely placed tables at lunch. Each time I thought “Huh, what’s happening?” before I was finally able to put the rather obvious puzzle pieces together.
But today I went to return some non-maternity dresses to Old Navy because, weirdly, they totally didn’t fit me right at all (why? They ARE my size ... that's odd) – and I was also wearing non-maternity clothes at the time (with the elastic waist on my skirt sitting well below my stomach ... you know, like how Al Bundy used to wear his pants) – when some guy in the store says to me “You 2 go ahead of me.” As I looked at him quizzically (2 of us??) he smiled and, of course, pointed to my stomach. Ah yes, me and the baby. Now I remember.
Of course I knew this would happen eventually. For awhile I was able to deny it though. In fact, the bulk of my growth thus far has sort of come in spurts. It was only a month ago that people would see me and declare “Are you sure the baby is ok in there? You barely look pregnant at all!” And so you couldn’t blame me in thinking ... HOPING ... that I’d look a little more like pregnant Princess Kate than pregnant Kim Kardashian. But, just like any tabloid “star,” the reviews of me looking “too skinny” turned quickly into deflating declarations of my rapid, burgeoning growth. Well, it was good while it lasted.
And, as someone who is now quite obviously with child, I have to say that I haven’t really been taking enough advantage of this whole “being pregnant” thing. I haven’t really played the pregnant lady card to get what I want very often at all. Thankfully someone I have no recollection of ever meeting before stopped by my office today just to tell me how big I'm getting (thanks random lady!) and it reminded me that I really should be milking this for all it's worth.
So I called and scheduled a pre-natal massage. Why not? I deserve it. (Though, did you know you have to get a doctor's note saying it's okay? I don't get it – it's just someone rubbing me, right? Do I also need to get a note saying it's okay to drive my car over speed bumps? This is madness people - madness!) And this weekend I'll also be trying out a little pre-natal yoga as well (though I really don’t know how my belly won’t get in the way of me being successful at that). But I know I should be taking this so much farther. Why am I pumping my own gas still - aren’t the fumes bad for me? GAR should be doing this for me. And I hauled in groceries yesterday with very little assistance. Why did no one offer to carry them for me? Come to think of it, should I really be forced to do anything for myself at all anymore? Where is the chivalry? The compassion? Shouldn’t everyone be doing their part to help this humongous pregnant lady out?
Or maybe I’ll just keep doing all those things but carve out a little more “me time” while I still can. That’s really more my speed. Plus, I’m not really THAT big ... you can hardly even tell ... barely ... just a little ...
Oh, but I did let GAR convince me that I’m entitled to use the “expectant mom” parking spots (where you can find them). I really don’t “need” to use them (not yet anyway) but this is summer in Orlando after all and I don’t want to look gigantically pregnant AND sweaty. Vanity wise that might really push me over the edge.
So here I am. Full disclosure, this photo was taken by GAR who, despite his many wonderful attributes, has never been great at getting a good belly shot of me. I am, in fact, much bigger in person than this photo lets on. That said, I am now convinced that this is the only outfit that makes me look even remotely "thin-ish" anymore and I will likely be wearing it daily from this point forward. Ha ha - no one will ever guess I'm pregnant in this dress!!
Perhaps part of the reason I took this seemingly harmless remark about my obvious “pregnant-ness” so hard is that I’m still in complete denial that my belly is growing so rapidly. For some reason my brain hasn’t registered this – or refuses to process it – whichever. I just keep acting surprised when my stomach gets in the way of things. I knock into my kitchen counters when I’m trying to reach for something that is now, thanks to my tummy, clearly out of reach. I am thoroughly amazed when I can’t bend over easily. Heck, I even knocked some poor guy in the head with my belly when I tried to shimmy between two closely placed tables at lunch. Each time I thought “Huh, what’s happening?” before I was finally able to put the rather obvious puzzle pieces together.
But today I went to return some non-maternity dresses to Old Navy because, weirdly, they totally didn’t fit me right at all (why? They ARE my size ... that's odd) – and I was also wearing non-maternity clothes at the time (with the elastic waist on my skirt sitting well below my stomach ... you know, like how Al Bundy used to wear his pants) – when some guy in the store says to me “You 2 go ahead of me.” As I looked at him quizzically (2 of us??) he smiled and, of course, pointed to my stomach. Ah yes, me and the baby. Now I remember.
Of course I knew this would happen eventually. For awhile I was able to deny it though. In fact, the bulk of my growth thus far has sort of come in spurts. It was only a month ago that people would see me and declare “Are you sure the baby is ok in there? You barely look pregnant at all!” And so you couldn’t blame me in thinking ... HOPING ... that I’d look a little more like pregnant Princess Kate than pregnant Kim Kardashian. But, just like any tabloid “star,” the reviews of me looking “too skinny” turned quickly into deflating declarations of my rapid, burgeoning growth. Well, it was good while it lasted.
And, as someone who is now quite obviously with child, I have to say that I haven’t really been taking enough advantage of this whole “being pregnant” thing. I haven’t really played the pregnant lady card to get what I want very often at all. Thankfully someone I have no recollection of ever meeting before stopped by my office today just to tell me how big I'm getting (thanks random lady!) and it reminded me that I really should be milking this for all it's worth.
So I called and scheduled a pre-natal massage. Why not? I deserve it. (Though, did you know you have to get a doctor's note saying it's okay? I don't get it – it's just someone rubbing me, right? Do I also need to get a note saying it's okay to drive my car over speed bumps? This is madness people - madness!) And this weekend I'll also be trying out a little pre-natal yoga as well (though I really don’t know how my belly won’t get in the way of me being successful at that). But I know I should be taking this so much farther. Why am I pumping my own gas still - aren’t the fumes bad for me? GAR should be doing this for me. And I hauled in groceries yesterday with very little assistance. Why did no one offer to carry them for me? Come to think of it, should I really be forced to do anything for myself at all anymore? Where is the chivalry? The compassion? Shouldn’t everyone be doing their part to help this humongous pregnant lady out?
Or maybe I’ll just keep doing all those things but carve out a little more “me time” while I still can. That’s really more my speed. Plus, I’m not really THAT big ... you can hardly even tell ... barely ... just a little ...
Oh, but I did let GAR convince me that I’m entitled to use the “expectant mom” parking spots (where you can find them). I really don’t “need” to use them (not yet anyway) but this is summer in Orlando after all and I don’t want to look gigantically pregnant AND sweaty. Vanity wise that might really push me over the edge.
So here I am. Full disclosure, this photo was taken by GAR who, despite his many wonderful attributes, has never been great at getting a good belly shot of me. I am, in fact, much bigger in person than this photo lets on. That said, I am now convinced that this is the only outfit that makes me look even remotely "thin-ish" anymore and I will likely be wearing it daily from this point forward. Ha ha - no one will ever guess I'm pregnant in this dress!!
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