No, not my pirate booty, my actual booty.
The child inside of me hates me. I swear she does. She sits just right so I cannot stand without pain and I cannot sit without my butt going numb. I look like an elephant, and when I sit/lay comfortably I give an amazing impression of a beached whale. I’m only 33 weeks, shouldn’t I still be in “oh I’m going to have another baby!” bliss?
Pregnancy never seems to go how we expected. The insane amount of changes that happen over roughly 40 weeks can take a toll on the body and by the time we hit the 3rd trimester that butterfly in the stomach joy over the BFP can fade and suddenly we are emotionally charged, walking planets. People rub our belly and pity our hugeness, sharing with us the least tactful expressions about our size. Forget shaving the bikini line properly, you have to be able to see it in order to care anymore. Most clothes don’t fit, and those that do only add to the “I want this baby out NOW” appearance. Then to top if off my rear is in constant pain as my hips widen a little more to prepare to have this baby.
Did I mention I’ve changed deodorant 3 times this trimester? I’m sure people think I don’t bathe….stupid sweating. Oh, and my hair! UG, I think I would prefer having so much that I look like Cousin It, but frankly I just look like I put a fork into an electrical socket.
My house? Forget it. My mom mentioned how I looked pregnant and my house was a disaster. Thanks mom, we shall not be skyping for a while.
I’ve decided that the last stages of pregnancy are meant to be this miserable so all you feel is relief once you finally go into labor. I can still be thankful for this miracle of life and be grumpy about how whale like I feel right? I will be so happy to nurse off my blubber, at least I hope so. What will more likely happen is, I will meet my beautiful daughter, be OH so happy to no longer be pregnant, and then come back and write how I’m awfully tired of having sore nips.