In Which Even a Modestly Protuberant Belly is an Obstacle

I FEEL enormous. If I’m looking down at my torso, my boobs are huge, my belly is more huge, and my poor belly button will soon be just a memory.  But this is not actually the case (except for the belly button). I got my husband to take a photo of me in profile– it’s nice because I can pull it up on my computer for a periodic reality-check. I have a modest-sized belly, perfectly average for twenty weeks. And if I ever had a backside at all, it is gone now. Sigh. Maybe some of this rapid weight gain will put it back?

Either way, my evolving shape has made certain routine tasks unexpectedly difficult. Washing dishes, for example, has required some adjustment. I’m used to just leaning over the counter, but now it puts an uncomfortable pressure on my belly to do so. I’m thinking about getting a foot-stool for that.  Normally, I pull a sock onto one foot while hopping around on the other foot. But now I can’t pull my knees up that far. I have to stop and remind myself to sit down. It helps to pretend I’m actually 85 years old, and behave accordingly while getting dressed. Probably the most awkward thing is that my abdominal muscles have gone on strike. If I lie down on my back, and then try to sit up again, it just doesn’t work. I can’t do it. That doesn’t keep me from forgetting and trying it anyway, of course. I give a good heave, thinking I’ll be upright in a sec, find myself still reclining, flail a little bit, grumble, and then do it the “right” way: use my arms and legs to roll over onto one side and then lever myself up.

I guess I’ll get used to it. Eventually.