17 Weeks and Well Read

Now that I am feeling more myself (despite frequent trips to the ladies and a grueling case of muffintop-itis), I have taken to educating myself on all things baby. Here are a couple of my favorites:

• Secrets of the Baby Whisperer
• Your Pregnancy Week by Week
• What to Expect When You're Expecting

I've also read a couple of fun novels about pregnant women who cope with the symptoms and say good-bye to the party-going/socialite self they once knew.

• Belly Laughs: The Naked Truth about Pregnancy and Childbirth by Jenny McCarthy
• Knocked Up: Confessions of a Hip Mother-to-be by Rebecca Eckler
  

Needless to say, my sisters will have a whole library of books to choose from when I'm done.

Cletus the Fetus

As I become more and more demanding and hormonal, I have an increasingly overwhelming desire to blame my disposition on the baby growing inside me. The ever so common "the devil made me do it" blame-game has morphed into "It wasn't me, it was Cletus-the-fetus", or "Pat wanted it". Because in truth, it is Pat (my currently androgynous, unborn child) who is dictating my every move. If I crave cottage cheese, snap at you without cause, or hog all the blankets and pillows, you can bet your ass Pat is behind it. So stay out of the way, and you can be sure that no harm shall come to you. Eat the last of my Ben & Jerry's Chocolate Fudge Brownie ice cream, and it's open season, bitches.

A Womb with a View (not really relevent to my post but isn't it a cute title?)

At the suggestion of my sister, I am determined to make this latest post a sunnier, more positive (less-whiny) one.

Besides, now that the nausea and exhaustion has subsided, there is not much else to complain about - unless of course you count the relentless, two-week long migraine that it has been replaced with. But I digress... Positive, positive. OK, here's one: I am learning to accept my changing body. I've stopped complaining about feeling bloated and chubby mainly because I bought myself a pair of black stretch pants (sans stirrups) further affirming the fact that I have officially "let myself go". While I realize that these bottoms are currently and lovingly being referred to in the fashion world as "must have" leggings, come on, people. Let's just call a spade a spade... I wore these when I was 6 and accessorized them with a scrunchy and high-tops. Now I wear them so my continually expanding body can breathe (and so that when I get home from work, I no longer have to change into sweats). Yes, these little beauties double as both business and pleasure. The physical effort it took to change after work has been cut out and replaced with more couch time. Ahhhh, it's the little things...