Tuesday, 28 April 2009

I would stick with "Aren't you glowing?" to avoid getting hurt.

I’m going to repeat the most common complaint amongst pregnant women at the risk of being unoriginal because clearly people are not taking this complaint seriously. For some reason people still think it is socially acceptable to call pregnant women fat while rubbing their bellies.

Let me give you an idea of my typical morning: I groan out of bed with all sorts of aches in my morphing physique at the ass crack of dawn. Usually I am up this early because the mini-me I carry around has decided to use my bladder as a pillow for her enormous head all night.

As I get dressed I see in the mirror the taught skin stretched across my distended belly, any trace of a feminine waist gone. I’ve spent most of my life dieting and/or choosing strategic outfits to disguise my gut, and now it is hard and huge and mocking for all to see. I then notice my breasts, a physical trait of mine often admired by others that countered the extra stomach weight with their round perkiness. My breasts are now borderline national geographic with nipples so large they are starting to take over my armpits. After this lovely reflective ego trip, I struggle to get into a giant pair of plain underwear that go up to my belly button and then put on a pair of pants with a giant elastic band. Did you know it is almost impossible to have a good day if you are wearing trousers with an elastic waistband? I then spend fifteen or so minutes trying on various tops, hoping to find one that is able to cover my giant bump so as not to frighten people with glimpses of my whiter than white stretch mark lined gut.

I waddle out of the house in flat shoes unable to wear my beloved heels, walking at such a pace that people with hip replacements over take me. And after all of this, all this emotional grappling with the terribly unsexy changes that are happening to my body, someone I barely know thinks that I am spoiled goods, no longer a woman, but a vessel for creating tiny human beings, and that it is socially acceptable to reach out and rub my belly, the belly I’ve been trying to hide for the past twenty years and tell me that I must be having twins I look so immensely fat.

How hospitals are not full with people who have been mauled by angry pregnant women is beyond me.

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