I had lost track how far along I was. People ask and I fudge, “Oh, about six months, or so.” And I was right.
But lookee here, next Friday marks the end of the second trimester!
So here we are, self-portrait, minus a picture of the varicose veins.
It’s really quite a shame that you can’t really tell just how large my upper half is getting. It’s remarkableness is drowned out by the belly.
I had the “compliment” of some of the youth girls telling me last Friday that you can’t tell I’m pregnant when you look at me from the back. Of course, time and experience will teach them to analyze rapidly rounding posteriors and conclude PREGNANT, even before seeing the belly. Because if I’ve filled out on top, it’s being equally matched behind.
Which leads me to a discussion of pregnancy pants…a daily absorption at this point. Why is it that no one has designed the perfect pregnancy pants? I’m really not asking for much.
I want pants that don’t squeeze when I sit down or lean over.
I want pants that don’t cling to and draw attention to the aforementioned rearview predicament. (And all the jeans manage to place the pocket in just the right spot for making an already round and sagging entity look rounder and saggier.)
I want pants that are all the same color, so that when I wear one of the skimpily lengthed maternity shirts and raise my hands past my knees, you don’t see either white belly or a band of cloth that is obviously not meant to be seen.
I’d like a pair of pants that I can squat and bend over in without being instantly transformed physically and psychologically into this:
That’s all I’m asking for. Is it that difficult? Or am I asking for the impossible.
These are the things that I think about at 26 weeks.
(For the record, I also think a great deal of sentimental and happy thoughts…but we’ll leave those for another time.)