- Jack is moving around a LOT. His little kicks can be seen and felt from the outside, which is cool, yet totally creepy/Alien-like. You can usually find me lifting up my shirt and staring at my stomach at inappropriate times. Like while driving. (Red lights, my dears. Red lights.)
- My belly button is, how do you say? OMGDISGUSTO. It’s shallow and it weirds me out being able to see the back of it so clearly! AH.
- I was talking to a friend and she said that someone else we both know was acting concerned. He finally asked her, “Is Morgan, umm… you know… ” and she said, “Pregnant? Uh, yessss.”
It keeps happening!! RAWR. MORGAN SMASH. I don’t know, maybe it’s because I feel like a freaking monstrosity in all my bloatedness and that it’s totally obvious that I’m not just gaining weight, but knowing that some people aren’t sure and are hesitant to even SAY the word pregnant in reference to my belly is just plain worrisome! Should I make a sign to wear? Something along the lines of, “I had sex.“?
Yes, I know. Pregnant girls… we are never happy. I’m too big, I’m too small. THERE IS NO PLEASING ME. Except if you give me nachos. You can tell me I look like Sasquatch and I probably won’t even hear you over the sound of my own crunching.
(No, I’m serious. Ask Justin. I eat nachos nearly every night AFTER dinner. It’s concerning even to ME.)