I love women. I know, so do you. But I have more reason to love them now that I’m facing Imminent Birthing.
I’ve been feeling, how shall I put this delicately? Like a Sumo wrestler in need of hip replacement. The kid is sitting on my pelvis, which does not make for graceful standing and encourages waddling rather than walking. I have one pair of pants and 3 dresses which fit because, with my due date less than a month away, I refuse to buy more clothes. My face glows, literally, because I’m constantly sweating. I’ve taken to wearing my hair in a pony tail with multiple bobby pins holding it in because I can’t stand to have anything add to the heat. In short, I am not Angelina Jolie right now. People confuse us when I’m not pregnant, but no such luck when I’m expecting.
So I penguin-walked into school registration. And bless those angels who work there. 4 of them, separately and without any prompting, gushed over how good I look, how small for my advanced state, how lucky I am to be in such good shape. And then, while treasure hunting for the not-to-be-found school supplies at my local store, I ran into another friend. She weighs about 2 pounds. And she raved about how skinny I look and how she can’t believe I’m only 4 weeks away from having a baby.
I tell you, next teacher appreciation day, I’m sending Godiva chocolates to the ladies on the staff. Bless their lying little hearts!