2009, summer of the orca

So I realized the other day, as the sun heated up in the sky, that being fat and pregnant is not going to be very much fun this summer. I knew it wasn't going to be a big blast, but I also thought that I would be glad enough that the weather was warm that I could get over it.

This is only partly true.

The other thing I noticed is that I kind of look like Humpty Dumpty already, and I have a long way to go.

Now some people might think that pregnant women are cute. I think what most of those people really mean is that pregnant women look "funny". Sure, it is amusing to see Mrs. Dumpty waddle along looking miserable, but cute? Not really.

Still, despite the fact that I feel like I am growing a baby rhino, and have 5 months to go, I feel compelled to have a snack whenever possible. This is because I am allowed to.

I am not going to get into a list of all the things that I am not allowed to do, because it would dominate this blog, and quite possibly the entire Internet. What I am allowed to do is eat, and I am getting really good at it.

I have always appreciated good food, but now more than ever, the smell of a steak grilling makes me want to pull my car over and find out where it is coming from. I have superpower in my nose these days and it seems to be making even burnt popcorn smell delicious. This is a welcome change from a few weeks ago when nearly everything I smelled made me want to cry or vomit.

Today, I had a hamburger for lunch. I can honestly say it was one of the most delicious hamburgers I have ever eaten. Nothing special about a single from Wendy's unless you are making a baby. All of a sudden it transformed into a gourmet delight. This probably also had to do with the fact that I waited until 2pm to eat, which used to be normal for me, and now is practically impossible. I used to also wait on my husband to eat, or listen to him whine about it until I caved and fixed or ordered dinner. Not anymore. If he isn't in the house and ready to eat at 7:30, he's on his own. Mommy can't wait.

Yes, despite cramming myself into stretchy clothes and putting on shirts that come down over my rhino hump, I still feel enormous, and yet I have so far to go. Mr. W explains this away by just stating the obvious "you're pregnant." Really? I had no idea. Never before in my life have I asked him to buy me a hot fudge cake at 9pm, or seriously considered eating a blue Icee and a soft pretzel for dinner. Even if I had, he would have told me to forget it. Now, Mr. W responds by putting his shoes on and grabbing his keys in the hope of avoiding tears.

I have no idea if the mad desire to eat everything that isn't bolted down will go away. It did last night when I actually felt slighted because I just couldn't bring myself to eat all my food or even have dessert because I ate too much salad. Normally this would make me proud, but yesterday, I just felt robbed. I was entitled to dessert because I am pregnant.

What I do know is, I will be expanding to greater proportions than this before all is said and done, and as that happens I will waddle around in the lightest clothes I can find to fit over my Humpty Dumpty bumpy ass body. I will flop my fat into a pool somewhere and people can just deal with it. No one has to tell me I am cute. I won't be. But I will be pregnant, and probably enjoying a snack at the pool.