I'm finally in my maternity pants. Nothing makes you feel sexier than jeans with a pouch in the front. Well, I can't say that I'm sporting those pants yet, but I did put on some very stylish elastic waistband maternity jeans today. I can't help it. I'm a force to be reckoned with in the fashion department.
I'm still researching for my planned "natural birth." Actually, I don't think there's anything natural about losing your figure, having the contents of your colon turn to cement, or getting ripped from asshole to elbow, but still, that's my plan.
And I don't know why I feel the need to buy those silly shirts that say, "Bun in the oven," "Fertile Myrtle," or even "His boys can swim." Maybe because I know this will likely be the last time I do this. Perhaps I have a need to tell the world and wear stupid shit just because I can. It's sorta like wearing a fanny pack. Yes, you can, but no, you really shouldn't.
I leave you with one more of the Things That Really Should Get On My Nerves During Pregnancy (But They Just Don't):