12 weeks, 3 days

I can’t explain just why I was surprised when I turned around and saw a BLIZZARD happening outside my window this morning, but I was. I guess this is something I should get used to at this point – the last spurt of winter weather often hits on the week of my birthday. Now, did I mention that not five minutes prior to that, I placed two online orders for my first swath of maternity clothes? Uh…yeah. I find myself in a strange place that I’m guessing pretty much all preggos (who don’t live in Florida or further south) have faced since, ya know…gestation lasts just a few months short of a year. After a weekend of near-60s temps, I felt like I might actually be safe to go ahead and purchase some (sorely needed) preggo duds, but I stand corrected (and snowed on). Argh! May Mother Nature send me some 60 degrees+ days, and soon!

Really, though, I’m in that weird spot at this point – the point in your pregnancy where your normal clothes feel (in my case) or even look (not yet, but we will get there) like you decided to dress yourself up as a sausage that someone poked a hole in and then SQUEEZED. Hmph. Appetizing, eh? 😀

For some women, I guess a Bella Band is enough to help extend the pre-preggo pants until they’re 25 weeks along, but I am not going to be one of those ladies. In fact, I am pretty sure I gawked and then called the model, Amber, in the Ingrid & Isabel advertisement something really nasty. But how could I help myself when it said in the photo “Amber is 18 weeks and uses her Bella Band to keep wearing her pre-pregnancy jeans!” Great, yay for Amber! Next thing I know she’ll be pullin’ a Gisele Freakin’ Bundchen and bragging about how she never needed maternity clothes, had an all-natural and yet mysteriously pain-free labor, and was flipping pancakes in her kitchen two days post-birth. Le Sigh.

I’m really not as bitter as I sound, I just think that the true representation of many pregnancies is that, well, sometimes your belly (butt, upper arms, inner thighs, etc., etc.) are going to grow the way they want to and you just have to grab another dill pickle, smile, and hang on for dear life. And that’s okay – it’s all just one crazy ride anyways.

Until next time, peace & love!

Becky

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