I AM vain after all!!

Today was a big day for me. For the first time since we found out I was pregnant, someone looked at me, pointed to my belly, and asked if I was pregnant. I'm 24 weeks pregnant. That's about 6 months. I'm 2/3 of the way there. I know my belly's expanding. I sense it every time I squeeze into a pair of pants or try to roll over in bed or look in a mirror. But most people have been telling me I don't look pregnant. That makes me feel rather conflicted. Takes me back to my pre-pubescent and teen years.

See, I started out as a healthily chubby toddler. I had a cute little bowling ball of a stomach that started to recede about the time my baby brother's started to grow. After that, I was skinny, skinny, skinny. It was a bit disconcerting. School yard taunts were along the lines of "Hey Olive Oyl, where's Popeye!" or "Where's Clarice? Oh, there you are. I didn't see you when you turned sideways" or "Hey, when it gets windy, do you have to carry weights to keep from blowing away?" And descriptors of me were usually words like skinny, emaciated, bony, stick-like...not really positive. So I grew up with this rather distorted body-image.

Then I grew up. Until a few months ago, my height and weight has roughly matched that of Kate Moss (good thing or bad thing, I don't know). I gained a few curves here or there. And the descriptors changed to words like slender, thin, slim...perhaps a bit more positive. But I'd still get teased on occasion. One friend, who shall remain nameless, once told me that I was skinny enough to be my own birth control. In my mind, I'm still a weakling skinny kid. Conflicted body image. Never thought my weight could be a source of vanity. But recently, I've realized that I AM vain after all. I realized this when I outgrew 80% of my wardrobe, but refused to go maternity shopping. I just haven't felt ready to move on to elastic waistbands yet. So I have my own creative solutions to fool myself into thinking that my figure isn't really changing.



But now the exponential growth of my little one has made me confront how I really feel about my ever expanding belly. I don't know if I like it or if I hate it. I mean, some areas of expansion have been kinda fun (nudge, nudge, wink, wink). But this belly thing is weird. Maybe it's because I'm carrying my weight gain so that people can't tell if I'm pregnant or just consuming a lot of empty calories. So I have bipolar moments. I want to gain weight. I miss being thin again. I want my belly to grow more obviously pregnant. I wish this pressure to gain a pound a week would be over soon. Turns out I actually care about how I look. Maybe that's a good thing after all. I've never been one to exercise. So maybe when all of this belly-expanding is over, I'll really commit to exercising to get my heart and bones healthy. And ultimately, the big belly is worth it. If my belly doesn't grow, then my little one doesn't grow. And I want him to be healthy when he enters this world, because between my genes and Ian's he's already destined to be tall. I just hope he's not overly skinny too. Well, better get back to the kitchen. A nice, weight-gaining, pre-bedtime snack of ice cream awaits me.

Clarice