If I wasn’t me, and saw me now, I’m not sure what I would think.  But I really don’t think I’d be confident that I was pregnant, rather than just fat. Or simply a very odd shape. I am me, and even I’m not sure. I’m trying to decide if what is growing inside me is a human being or more of a food baby. Since I hit the second trimester, my appetite has been near insatiable, and that alone could account for my expanded (for which read: disappeared) waistline. The lady who offered me a seat this week on the tube was very brave, and got very lucky that I am both pregnant, and not easily offended!

Baby bump or not, I’ve certainly changed shape a lot in the last few weeks – as the pictures from Paris show! I had a couple of moments of horror recently, when looking down at my belly and seeing an absolute rash of stretch marks, marching from right to left, right across the line of my belly button. It was only when I looked again a few minutes later and saw they were significantly paler that I realised they weren’t actually stretch marks, just the imprint left from the ever tightening elastic waistband of the scrubs I wear for work. Of course I was relieved. But relief soon gave way to horror again when I realised that this meant that ELASTIC waisted trousers are becoming too small.

I’ll happily confess that one of my trivial concerns about this pregnancy (because, really, all my concerns are trivial in comparison to the main concern that I have a healthy pregnancy resulting in a healthy baby and a healthy me) is that I wouldn’t look pregnant. I’ve often noticed how some women seem to develop these really neat, beach ball bellies that look almost like they’ve just been clipped on. Honestly? I want one of those. I fear that what I’m getting is more of an all round baby splodge.

One thing is for sure: Ian is getting fed up of me asking him daily whether my outfits make me look pregnant, or just fat. I’m definitely getting bumpy. I just want to look definitely pregnant now!


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