Tuesday, December 30, 2008
I Try Not to Make This ALL About Pregnancy.
But, well, I AM pregnant. And Andre is making his/her presence known more and more each day. Not only are the movements so strong you can SEE my belly jump from across the room, but I'm a shitton bigger than I was with Luca. People say that's 'normal' for a second pregnancy. I remember feeling like my body was a science experiment with Luca...this time I feel like I should be covered in wax and placed in Ripley's Believe It or Not on the Sunset Strip.
Here's the thing: my boobs grew. I know, I get no sympathy from my small-boobed friends. I'm ok with that. But I REALLY don't need bigger boobs.
Here's the other thing: I have new stretchmarks. Oh, don't be fooled....I've had stretchies since middle school, when suddenly my body was all, "Hey, wouldn't it be AWESOME if we broke out like crazy, our hips spread, and we gained roundabouts 15 pounds pretty much overnight...and all in the boobs and hips?". But with Luca I didn't get a single stretchie until 37 weeks, when she dropped. And they were little and almost...cute. Ok...not really cute, but not BAD. This time, I swear to you, I will feel an immense pressure for an entire day on ONE area of my belly, and within 24 hours I have a new stretchie there. I shit you not. I'd provide photographic evidence, but (a) I don't want to scare all your currently childless, thin, tan, beautiful readers and (b) I have my pride.
Anyhow, yesterday I was reading something a friend sent me, about her waffle maker she got for Christmas, and suddenly had the overwhelming urge for a Belgian Waffle. So when Darrick asked what I wanted for dinner (because we have NO groceries in the house and therefore knew we'd be going out) I told him I wanted one. He acquiesced, and off to IHOP we went. I had every intention of ordering that lovely Belgian Waffle, when the temptress of a waitress presented us with the 'specials' menu, where I was greeted by a picture looking something like this:
See that lovely little confection on the left side of the picture...the lemon blueberry dream of a desse- - - er, breakfast??? It was CALLING my name. But, I reasoned with myself that if I ordered THAT instead of the waffle, my husband would have shot lasers from his eyes. Why? Well, because he had asked if we couldn't just get Chinese food instead of IHOP, and I said no, we couldn't because *I* am the one creating life and my craving MUST be respected. And so changing my mind and choosing a NEW craving at the 11th hour would not have been well-received.
Fear not, though. I have great plans. Remember that gestational diabetes test I mentioned before? The one for which my ANGEL of a midwife suggested I gorge on carbs instead of drinking polyurethane orange juice? THOSE lovely, sweet, prefectly divine 8700 calorie pancakes will be my pre-bloodwork meal!
Ahhhh....compromise. Isn't it a lovely thing?