UGH. Today I wore my biggest fat pants. It was the last time. It's time to tuck them away till July. I'm depressed.
Old Navy delivered with a pair of maternity jeans for $20. They aren't too bad. No giant blue panel, just a scrunched top. Like something your grandmother would wear. If I wear a long shirt you can't tell, except of course for when I sit down and they just don't stay up. Such is the curse of baby-making.
Even though you can't tell from the outside, I know. I know I'm wearing the pants of a fat girl. Not just because my belly is big, but because the first 8 or so pounds that I gain are subjected to gravity in a pretty terrible way. Those first 8 land right on my hips and gigantic butt. *sigh*
I know it will be worth it. I love my little babies and I wouldn't trade all the stretchmarks or skinny jeans in the world for them. But for now, while I can't see her (this is what I'm assuming until Wednesday, when hopefully I will find out) it's tough being happy cause all I can see is that I'm getting chubby!!! Maybe if she would move a little and let me know she's in there I could be a little happier about this whole thing.
1 comment:
Even the moving doesn't help much. A little, but not much. You still only SEE the stretch marks and the fat pants...until they are born. Then you still shouldn't look in the mirror for a couple weeks. Just look at their face!
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