But all that has changed this week. First, there was that breakfast-for-dinner craving. It resulted in my demanding to go to the nearest breakfast place for chicken and waffles. Now, I'm a borderline foodie and pay lots of attention to what I eat, but rarely do I experience true joy when I'm eating. I can't emphasize enough how much I enjoyed my chicken and waffles. They were just that satisfying. I mean, I wanted to cry this was so good.And then there are days like today, where I just feel like inhaling things: yogurt, pastries, cake, chips, hot chocolate, french fries, cardboard boxes. Steve speared a couple of bites of my chili today and I almost bit his head off for stealing my food, despite the fact that I'd just taken two bites of his hamburger. Nothing sates. I get irritable easily. I feel like Godzilla. You know, I really think he was a misunderstood creature. Maybe Godzilla was female, and she was pregnant.
Remember the "your baby is as big as a [insert fruit name here]" comparison pregnant people get each week? This week? She's as big as a rutabaga. I swear I'm being trolled by the giant pregnancy conglomeration.
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Today, baby,
You must be getting bigger, because my stomach has definitely got that bowling ball thing going on now. For the first time this week people straight up asked me if I was pregnant. (My favorite was a woman who gave me a sideways glance in the copy room and said, "There's a baby in there, right?")
You're kicking in weird places, too. I didn't know you'd literally kick my butt, or that you'd jump on my bladder this early. I like that you're taking possession of your space. This is a good thing, because from the moment you come out, the patriarchy will try to keep you in a box. Keep it up, girl.
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