the fat lady sings
At 14 weeks.
I don't really feel all that much heavier since this whole pregnancy thing began, but my OB's scale and my quadriceps would disagree. Whenever I squat down to pick up something now (dropped pen, dog's food bowl, stray M&M that I will eat off the floor anyway if no one else is around to see me), the act of standing up is noticibly harder than it used to be. It feels like standing up from a squat while wearing a big, heavy hiking backpack. It feels like doing squat thrusts with a weight bar in the gym. It feels like I've gained 12 pounds and now my body is trying to figure out what to do with it all. I can't imagine what the ER is going to be like when I'm back there in April, since my entire day there consists basically of squatting down in front of patients, standing up, squatting down in front of other patients, and standing up again. Maybe I should get one of those little chairs and just wheel it around. Or better yet, a Rascal.
Speaking of being large and in charge, let us talk for a moment about the issue of maternity clothes. Now, luckily, I have a job where I can get away with wearing loose clothing and drawstring pants just about any day of the week, but once in a while, I like to dress like a civilian so that I might walk among the people. And I've come to the unsettling realization that maternity clothes are ugly. Not like I'm a fashion plate by any means, but they are. They are cheaply manufactured and ill-fitting and just plain homely. If you are a celebrity and can afford high-end maternity wear (or better yet, get it for free), then good for you, but for the majority of the population, we have to make do with our Gap and our Old Navy and our Motherhood Maternity and what have you--and friends, it's just a sea of polyester and nylon out there. So what is one to do? Hike down your too-short shirt-front for nine months? Look like sloppy mess clad head to toe in neon pink polyester? Or just give up and break out the muumuus?
Finally, to illustrate my point, above is the 17 week belly shot from earlier this weekend. Note not only the scary expanding uterus, but also the secret horrorshow of maternity wear known as the stretch panel pants. Sweet Christ, that's ugly. And yes, you are right to point out that at this juncture, I could still just wear normal jeans if I were willing to shell out the money just to get a pair of low-riders one size up from my usual--but then they'd be too long and they wouldn't fit in the butt, and anyway, what's the point of getting pants that you're going to outgrow in a few weeks anyway? Might as well be pragmatic and just jump straight to the ugly-ass preggo wear.
I wash myself with a rag on a stick.
Currently reading: "Black Hawk Down." Nothing like some nice depressing war journalism to get you all peppy for the upcoming work week.