Fat

It's Wednesday.

That means I'm another week along, bringing me to a whopping 14 weeks.

Y'know what I feel like, though? I feel like I am 100 weeks pregant without the perk of being able to see the creature move/kick. Wait, is that a benefit? I think it may actually just freak the hell out of me.

I feel fat as hell, and don't you dare roll your eyes at me. The way my moods go, I'm likely to slap them out of your head.

Seriously, though...I feel huge.

The other day I tried to squeeze into a pair of jeans I have had (and that have fit!) for a couple of years. They're one of my favorite pairs. Thanks to my ever growing gut and ass, I no longer fit into them.

Actually, if I do that whole jump up and down, squat real low, shake everything from one side to the other, I can pull them up over my arse. I'm aware that is likely a visual you didn't want, but I am beyond caring what others want. I want what I want, which is to fit into my god damn jeans.

Anyways, I get these jeans up over my ass and they will button. When I say button, though, I mean I now have the mother of all muffin tops. I could feed half the world with this muffin top. It's not cute. No one will look at me, thinking "Oh, she is just the picture of pregnant beauty". They will cover their eyes and beg the gods for forgiveness, because they must have done something obviously horrible in their lives to deserve to be blinded in such a manner.

I decided that since I had worked up such a sweat to get these babies on, that I wasn't changing. Really, though, it's that Jordan was sleeping, and I had no one to help me pry myself out of them. That, and I was beyond winded. Bitches running marathons ain't got nothin' on how I felt after getting into those jeans. Heart palpitations galore.

I figured I would be okay because I recently purchased one of those belly bands. It looks like a tube top, but you wear it around your waist. It's supposed to allow you to wear your pre-pregnancy jeans for longer because you can wear them unbuttoned and use this belly band as a super elastic-y belt.

Like I said, I figured I would be okay. I figured wrong.

Never in my life, besides the day my mother gave birth to me, have I shown my ass to so many people. This belly band did nothing. I sat down, my ass came out. I stood up, my ass came out. I bent over, my ass came out. You get the picture. My ass was out.

If I had any luck in the world, the granny panties I was wearing would have at least stayed up to try to save some of my dignity. Wait, I just said granny panties and dignity in the same sentence. Never mind.

Okay, okay, continuing on...

They did not save the day. Why? Because the aforementioned jeans that were/are way too tight latched on to them for all they were worth and took the granny panties down with them. I like that attitude though - if I'm going down, you're coming with me. I stand by that. I understand where you are coming from, jeans.

Long story short, I'd like to send a quick apology out to those that had to bear witness to my ass. It's large, it's in charge, and it's here to stay.