>> Thursday, October 21, 2010
I hate the fat phase.
Not that all of pregnancy doesn't feel like a fat phase... But you know what I'm talking about. Those weeks where your old clothes bind and pinch in all the wrong places, but you're not yet big enough for hideous maternity wear.
You feel huge - not huge like you know you're going to get - but still huge, but people can't tell you're pregnant yet.
Instead, they just kind of wonder if you've been eating too much pizza lately.
Yesterday I went to buy a few little pumpkins. There's a church down the street that sells pumpkins every year as a massive mission trip fundraiser. And the pumpkins were cheaper there than anywhere else. I'm going to use them as a party craft for all the adults coming to Little Man's 1st birthday celebration this weekend.
So I'm standing there in the brisk fall air, swallowing down nausea, picking out cute pumpkins from a very friendly church lady. We got past the purpose of buying them (to entertain the grownups at a 1 year old's party), and laughed about how the birthday boy will never remember it anyway.
I started coughing to cover a retching heave. Nice. Very nice.
And, just like with so many other strangers I meet, I felt obligated to explain. In just a few more weeks, no one will need explanations, unless of course they're under 6 years old and still slightly confused on how to tell if "that lady is fat or just having a baby?"
But for now, people can't tell. I'm just thicker than normal. And since they don't know me, they don't know the difference. I'm not sure why I feel like they need to know. I'm never going to see them again.
Once you pop, the discomfort begins. As though nausea isn't discomfort enough already. But the heaviness, the backaches, the hip aches... But I kind of wish it would just happen already. No more explanations necessary.
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