It’s week 14. (Am I allowed to call it 4 1/2 months yet? It seems so much cooler than 14 weeks.) I’m down to one pair of regular pants and a pair of shorts but I think it’s time to admit defeat.
It’s time to break out the maternity jeans.
Yes, they are comfy. Yes, they have that soft band of fabric around the middle which effectively eliminates the dreaded “muffin top”. What they are not is flattering. Unfortunately I’m at that stage where I’m not quite big enough for real maternity clothes but I’m going to cut off circulation to Possum’s important parts if I keep trying to shove my belly into my old jeans. I imagine it’s similar to losing a bunch of weight and not fitting into anything you own (except with way more constipation and crankiness). I know I need to bite the bullet and just buy a bigger normal size but the Superthrift in me refuses to spend money on something I know I’ll outgrow in three weeks. Speaking of, this kid is taking up a lot of valuable real estate. He - I’m using “he” so I don’t have to do that aggravating “(s)he” thing every time, not because I know something- is only 4 ½ centimeters big, yet by the looks of things, I’m carrying a small elephant. That’s one of the things that nobody tells you when you get pregnant: it’s not all baby. I don’t know what the hell it is, but I will tell you this –
It has taken control of my bowels.
That’s another thing nobody tells you: You stop pooping. I mean, MY GOD. They say it’s because your body is trying to suck out all the nutrients but holy jeezum, I'm going to birth a linebacker this keeps up. I’m officially on the octogenarian diet – 4 liters of water a day, shredded wheat, prunes, hot water with lemon, tea (supplemented with several unmentionables that will go… unmentioned) and... nothin'. Nobody told me about this! Nobody!
They also didn’t tell me that I’d develop this weird saliva thing. Oh yeah, not only am I no longer pooping but I’m constantly battling this film in my mouth. I’m sure it’s due to all the excess spit I seem to be producing. (Oh that? Yeah, nobody mentioned that either.) And don’t get me started on the unusual wrinkles. I used to have a large crease across my stomach from my pot belly that was the bane of my existence. Well now that’s gone, only to be replaced by a whole new crease across the top of my belly, right under my boobs. This is clearly caused by the new, very high belly I now possess that feels nothing like an actual, human belly and everything like a prosthetic. (Every time I bend I feel this ridge-like thing under my tits that feels exactly like a fake pregnancy belly. You’d think somebody could’ve told me…)
Here’s something that somebody did tell me, but I can’t quite believe it. Apparently my appetite will increase throughout the second trimester.
Okay, that is simply NOT POSSIBLE. As someone who has seen with her own eyes the damage she can inflict on a pot of potatoes, an increase in appetite is simply unacceptable.
This kid is going to be huuuuuuge.