Pregnant Pause
May 12th, 2009So, yes, I’m pregnant. Wahey! The third month was the charm, it seems. Today I am 8 weeks 6 days pregnant, although to be honest, it looks as if I’m about 4 months at this stage. Check it out - although not if you’re eating.
Niiice
I am calling it my little bloat. I don’t know how much of that is actually biscuits (I have been eating rather alot of biscuits) but it’s seriously alarming. Although I have a massive bloated belly, I haven’t actually put any weight on.
My clothes are starting to become uncomfortably tight, and so I’ve bought some groovy two way stretch material with which to doctor my skirts. Now all I have to do is find the energy to… well, do anything really.
I’m stuck in a kind of personal hell. I am so tired and so lethargic that I can’t motivate myself to go out and swim. If I don’t go out and swim, and do what I actually want to do, which is lie on the sofa and eat biscuits, then I hate myself, and am covered by a settling gloom which makes me feel useless, fat and slobby. During these moods, I find it hard to believe that Gordon won’t just divorce me because I’m a disgusting slob who does NOTHING.
My hair is greasy, I have spots, and I feel sick 70 percent of the time. So far, I have to tell you, pregnancy pretty much sucks. Oh yes, I forgot about the constipation! Woo, that one’s a killer. A couple of weeks ago I nearly lost the plot because I hadn’t been for six days. And you wouldn’t believe how much trapped wind six days worth of unprocessed crap can produce. (I realise that this could normally be classed as Too Much Information, but fuck it. It’s my blog.)
I’m a joy to live with, and no mistake.
Roll on 12 weeks, when I can see the little critter on the scanning screen, and it all starts to feel real. It will start to feel real then, won’t it?
Well?
