Okay, y’all. I’m officially HUMONGOUS. I’m not just talking about the belly, although it has grown quite a bit in the past few weeks… but the booty? Yeah, it’s no longer fitting in certain maternity pants I bought ONLY THREE MONTHS AGO! My shallow, superficial little world is crumbling beneath me. But I will defeat these extra pounds, I am convinced!
If Britney can go from this:
to this (with a little help from Photoshop):
… then I can definitely make it happen.
(Just do me a favor and shoot me if I ever shave my head. There’s just no recovering from that mess.)
In other news, Madelyn will be here in 9 short weeks and I have, well… absolutely nothing ready for the grand occasion. I keep saying I have enough time to get it all in order, but MAN, how the past month has flown by! My first baby shower is in two weeks (EXCITEMENT!), then pretty much every weekend up until my due date is booked with some other sort of event, including two more showers. I need to just buckle down and get the nursery ready, wash all her little things in Dreft and buy some nipple cream already.
By the way, have I mentioned my irrational fear of whatever it is that happens to The Girls once they’ve gone through the pain and terror of breastfeeding? No? I’ll save that one for another post.
I attempted to smile this week — imagine that! And believe it or not, that is an almost identical, but very different purple shirt than the one I wore at 12 weeks. Not sure why I would care if you saw me in the same shirt twice, 2 weeks apart… but … I don’t know, it’s just different. hah. That is the same undershirt though, because it’s leopard print and I’m kind of obsessed with anything to do with animal print, if you haven’t noticed by now. I wear that at least 6 days out of the week. Kidding (but not really). Umm, moving on.
How my chesticles have almost completely disappeared in the past seven days is a mystery to me, but I actually don’t mind as long as they come back in the next week or two. I and my aching back could use a break from those death bags… and a break from the eyes of every male over 15 years of age. Seriously, sometimes I just want to just blurt out “I’M CARRYING A PEACH-SIZED FETUS COVERED IN FURRY HAIR, YOU DON’T WANT THIS, MAN!”
Oh, and I scared myself for a second when looking at this picture, thinking, “where in the heck is my wedding ring?!?”… but the genius in me then realized I took this picture in the bathroom mirror. Mirror = reflection = opposite of reality = messes with my head, but I understand it now. Thank you, science.