Monday, March 14, 2005

that popping sound

In most of the pregnancy literature that I've read (and I don't mean the scientific literature, which I periodically browse just to make sure I'm not killing Cletus dead by partaking in some low-level caffiene intake, but the anecdotal literature) everyone mentions a point in pregnancy where you "pop." That is to say, a point in your pregnancy when your uterus decides DAN, I WON'T BE IGNORED, like Glenn Close in "Fatal Attraction," and busts out of the nice little niche it was sharing with your pelvic and abdominal viscera because it's a big, fat selfish organ and it NEEDS MORE SPACE. At some point three or four days ago, this has happened to me. I have "popped." Like a balloon. Or a zit.

(Compare this to last week to see the difference.)

The positive side of this "popping" phenomenon is that people are finally starting to catch on that I'm actually pregnant, not just that I ate three cheeseburgers for lunch. This generates a certain degree of good will, although it's inviting more unsolicited advice as well. The minus side, physically at least, is that it's gradually putting pressure on my belly-button such that the tiny "hidden" scar from my lap appy is becoming progressively less tiny and less hidden. Instead of being nicely tucked away inside my navel, it's now hovering just above, all hyperpigmented and puckery looking. It's not even a glamourous scar that I can show off, like a scar from a suba-diving accident or a daring mid-air helicopter rescue. This scar just looks like belly button lint.

And also, here's a little photo for those who doubt the destructive power of The Coop:

I stopped by Walgreens on my way home from work and picked her up a little stuffed dog toy. This picture was taken within five minutes of me handing it over to her. She does not seem to understand that tearing apart your fun squeaky dog toy means NO MORE TOY. What, do you think dog toys grown on trees? (Well, I guess they do, if you're the stick-fetching type of dog. Ours is not.)

Currently reading: This article in The New York Times about the plans that the newspaper may have to start charging people for for access the online edition. Gah! No! Can't I just promise to click on some of their stupid banner ads and we can call it even?

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