I Can Relax Now and My Pooch Thanks Me

I'm finally at the stage where I can't wear my regular jeans anymore.

Last week, I went to put my jeans on and decided if I do, in fact, put them on, I'll have to stand the rest of the day. Otherwise I would actually create a muffin-top that I've been trying to hide without being pregnant.

I peeled them off and pulled out the maternity jeans. Alas, they are still to big, so I have to roll down the panel so they'll stay on. I still have one pair of jeans that are too big to begin with and I think I have maybe another week in those. ugh! I've got to go shopping.

Also, about this stage of the pregnancy game, I'm walking around wanting to say to everyone, "Um, yes, yes I am pregnant. I know you might think this is my normal pooch, but if you knew me better, there is no way I'd let my normal pooch hang out like this! There is a baby, so you don't have to wonder if I'm pregnant or just poochy."

That's my rehearsed line. Now, if I'm being honest, and we know I like being honest, this is a great time in pregnancy for me. I already have a pooch and now I can juuuuust relax. Let it go ahead and hang out, er down, which ever way it goes. I know that half this baby pooch is really mommy pooch, but you don't. Well, now you do because I told you, but it will be all baby in a few more weeks.

So, I no longer have to "hide the pooch," no, I embrace the pooch. No, really I do. When I go to lie down and night, I can actually give myself a hug. I believe that the belly fat that is sharing skin with a now ever-increasing uterus thanks me warmly.

Sadly, I know that once the youngin' is here, the pooch will betray me by, well, staying a pooch. I'll have no option but to shove it back in a pair of Spanx and subject it to Ploga again.

Pooch, ye be warned.