I am that girl.

I am that girl. You know, that pregnant girl you see out in public and think to yourself, "Ugh. get it together girl. I will never dress like that when I'm pregnant. I will be so cute when I'm pregnant." Right. Get pregnant, then come talk to me. You know what I caught myself wearing the other day? (yes, "caught myself" because I honestly didn't think 2ce about it) K wanted to go for a walk. I was wearing maternity khaki shorts, socks and one of his undershirts when he asked (I don't even know how it got that far...). What did I do? Slipped on my black Crocs. That's it. Really? Can you please visualize this? Long, elastic shorts, an oversized pocket Hanes tee, nasty (probably unwashed) ponytail, white ankle socks (yes, Nay Nay, ankle socks) and black Crocs. Wow. When I got out in the sun I immediately looked down and wished I had at the very least worn flip flops. Time out. That's all I wished that I had changed? Something is wrong with me. I am that girl. Today in Kroger I found my tank top riding up and my little gut hanging out. Awk.Ward.

My shoes aren't really fitting. I mean, my feet aren't swollen or anything, but my shoes don't fit. Well, maybe my feet are swelling, but not really... I mean, they are still really cute. No kankles as of yet. Ahhh!!! What is wrong with my feet? And all of my pretty skimpy undies have been pushed to the back of the drawer. Sorry K. Granny panties for the next 4 months. Or years. They are actually sooo comfortable. And, who cares about panty lines? I'm pregnant, and I am that girl.

Oh my hot mess. Let me just tell you one of the funniest things in the world. So, K won't let me really do anything. He does, generously, let me carry in the bread from the grocery store from time to time. That's about as far as it gets. I'm not allowed to lift anything, carry anything, push the grocery cart, stand on a step stool, yadda yadda, etc. etc. This weekend, in Nashville, while going to dinner, my friend's boo wanted to drop me off at the front door of the restaurant. So I wouldn't have to walk. From the parking spot. 20 yards away. I was thinking it, and she blurts it out: "She's PREGNANT, not disabled!!!" This has become my motto! My battle cry! I loved it. LOVED it.

Annnd, Cham just kicked me. Actually, she's doing something very karate-ish in there. I felt her move like 10 times in a row! Weird, that's the first time it was really consecutive. Very Neat-o :)

You are in luck. Earlier today I was thinking about writing this blog. I thought of something to write then immediately thought "Oh! TMI! You can't write that!...screw it. Write it." And now I can't remember. Oops. Lucky you.

Does anyone know what a Papaya is? Have you had one? That's how big Baby Guff is this week. We saw them at the grocery store tonight, and they were HUGE. Can't be right. Can't be right, because if it is right, and I am only half way through, I am in trouble. LOTS of trouble. Nothing bigger than the papaya we saw tonight could possibly fit. out. of there.
Especially lots of trouble since I have decided to deliver without an epidural. Call me crazy- but women have done it for thousands of years, and lived to tell about how horrible it was. It can be done and it's natural. I'm all over it.

My brain is tired.

Until Next TIme,
The Guff