My goodness my “little” five-pounder is turning heads these days!
Even the shadows are talking.
I had an ultrasound done yesterday to measure the size of thumb-sucking alien baby and pretty much the whole time the perinatologist kept saying “Yep, that’s a big one.” She did multiple measurements seemingly to will TSAB to a smaller size (they use an equation that measures the circumference of the head, the cut of mama’s belly and something else to figure out the size) but finally had to concede that I’ve got a five-pounder in my belly, which falls in the 93rd percentile of huge! (Really hoping that large head equates to a super-large, super-smart brain ;))
But given the numerous exclamations and proclamations regarding the size of my belly these days, you’d think I was carrying a 20-pounder in there!
Now, there have been some amazing people (friends, acquaintances, and even a few strangers) who’ve quipped at the smallness of my belly, and let me just say, if we weren’t already bffs, I assure you we are now! But more so than not, it’s those others whose comments haunt my daily endeavors:
“Wow, you’re quite large for where you are!”
“That’s not a subtle pregnancy is it?!?”
“That baby looks ready to pop!”
“Must be any day now.”
“Packing a large load there, hey.”
“Are you sure there’s not twins in there?”
“My gawd, that doesn’t even look real!”
Yep, it’s come to this, my baby the serving table 😀
It’s not the first time I’ve encountered such comments throughout this pregnancy… I have been sporting a preggers paunch for quite some time. And yet, every time I’m faced with these types of comments, it’s like I lose the ability to use my friggin’ tongue. Because if I were on the ball, that pharmacist, that barista, that old lady walking the trail, and that half-naked, hairy, old man sitting at the bus stop would have heard something along the lines of: “In 2 months time, this belly will be gone, but in 2 months time, that ugly face of yours will still be just as ugly as it today. Shame.”
Oh. Snap.
I can take a joke, sure I can, in fact, I’m usually the butt of my own jokes, and almost always the easy target for my brothers, but after 8 months of an ever-changing, hormonal body, 5 months of people remarking on the rotund size of my belly, one of them even having the gall to call me Tubs – and 90 per cent of whom are strangers – I’m losing my patience. I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t be appropriate for me to walk up to a non-pregnant person and greet them as “Shamu,” so why is it okay for them to walk up to me and pretty much do the same?
SUCK LEMONS JERK FACES!
Now, that all being said, when my soon-to-be brother-in-law, who I haven’t seen in about a month and a half, walks into a room, spots my belly, points at it with his mouth agape and shouts: “HOLY COW… there’s a baby in there!” he can be forgiven. I know I’m sounding hypocritical, but first of all, this guy is family, that’s what they do; second of all, he is notorious for sticking his foot in his mouth and bringing a laugh to everyone else’s in the process; and third, I know I could kick his ass in a running race – even in my 32-week pregnant state! Who’s laughing now Patty Pat Pat? Bahahahhahahaa 😛