I look full-term.  I have an entire trimester to go. Yes, I know, horizontal stripes was not the way to go, and I’m all contorted, but this worries me. Too big too soon.  I feel ugly and ashamed at all the weight I’ve already put on. I still have 13 weeks to go and that means more pounds. I’m scared. I’m waddling.

One of my mommy friends shared a link to a pregnancy site this week. The mother is, quite literally, a model (although now she deigns to model maternity clothes. Thank God she found a brand that lets her still wear sexy and sparkly things.)  She had put on, oh, about 12 pounds by 27 weeks and was talking about how she’s really showing.  All I kept thinking was that “her showing” equaled my “pre-pregnancy body” (assuming my pre-pregnancy body had been photoshopped within an inch of its life.)  She looks beautiful, with a beautiful rounded belly and everything else fit. She is glowing.  She walks around and practices squatting. She didn’t show until about 2 days ago.  She is soft and loving and every moment of her pregnancy is a joy. She is a…well, model.

I am thermonuclear, round, and have cystic acne now to accompany my phlebitis. No short sparkly skirts for me.

When she started in, though, on how lucky she is to be able to lose weight quickly and is looking forward to her postpartum return to modeling, I ate carrot cake tuned out.
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We’re having a hell of a time coming up with names for Baby Beany Pickadilly.  We have a J. and an L. and DH is now on a kick for a “K” name to fit in between. He calls it “good karma.” I call it “fixation.”  I rejected a few K names as they are too popular, and he roundly rejected Kola, Kooter, and Kitkat.  There is no pleasing that man.

I’m suggesting that we just use a pharmaceutical name, sit back, and watch the royalties pour in.

FloMax would be an awesome name for a girl, no?

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My February project is to get the nursery looking less like a well-cushioned prison cell guest room and more like a nursery. I wish I had that gene that made me weak-kneed at the thought of decorating a baby room.  Thinking of recycling my old George Michael posters.

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When learning it’s a girl, people keep asking if I fear payback. This strikes a cold, dark chord with me.  I keep thinking I’d be much more at ease knowing it’s a boy.  I don’t have anything to lean on…no positive female mama role models who aren’t constantly bitching about how difficult girls are.  I blanched when a mama of a girl in my kids’ preschool talked about all the “mind games” they play. They are three or four. I am scared…

More tomorrow…must purge the fear before FloMax arrives.