No, Seriously, I’m Only Nine Weeks

I blame my two older children. And I blame any of you who’ve had more than two kids for not telling me how after each meal I’d look like a snake that just ate a goat. Okay, maybe I should blame my lack of stick-to-it-ness on the ol’ sit-ups and crunches, but I still put most of the blame on those two behemoths I gave birth to previously.

I know it doesn’t help that I finally figured out if I keep eating non-stop throughout the day, that I won’t get bothered by that dang morning sickness, but I’ve only gained 2 pounds. Instead, that hormone, relaxin, just makes me look all weird. Justin, in a brief moment of tenderness, patted my belly, except really, all he was patting was my bloated intestines pushing their way up and from behind my wussed-out upper abdominals.

I’ve also been in my “transition” maternity pants for the past four weeks because the nausea was making my tummy all “NO TOUCHY!” and I’ve not been able to tolerate even wearing pants two sizes larger than I normally wear, besides the fact that my rear is not yet two sizes larger…but if I keep up my smoked gouda habit, it won’t be too long! And since those pants I’m now wearing don’t exactly have sexy waistbands (and cuz I’m too cheap to buy the new-and-improved maternity pants), I’m wearing long shirts, or long tanks under short shirts, or I put on those tents that pass as shirts for me in the last trimester. It’s great. I love the whole clown look I pull off when I go into the office. Add in the fact that I’m fighting the nausea, aren’t sleeping well (since I can’t take the meds that help me sleep anymore), have already started a slight waddle, and usually have cheese danish crumbs on the front of me. I am one sexxxxay mama…