Apparently I have about six weeks left, give or take the extra two they like to tack on for good measure.
You know, first it's NINE months. Then you realize it's really TEN months. And then it's "whenever the fuck the baby decides to come out" which is the part that is really great, but then also really kind of sucks -- particularly when you've been enjoying your fairly taut and in tact vagina for the last 2 years. Like my midwife reminded me, "Your vagina is just never the same after having kids."
Gulp. Thanks. Just what I needed to get me through these last few weeks.
It doesn't help that I've started to resemble the next door neighbor's 27 year old English or Psychology major who is home from a 4-year "I couldn't find a job so instead I'm doing something noble by building huts for native tribespeople in Costa Rica" stint. Or, a "Survivor" reject.
You do know what I'm talking about right?
I tried shaving my legs, but I nearly fell over in the shower. And the other parts? Well... Let's just say my nether regions and below will be cozy warm for the winter.
I'm lucky if I lotion my face let alone put any make-up on. I have yet to resort to a doo-rag, but I have gone the "put some earrings on to distract from your pallid puffy face" route. Sadly, not even sterling silver danglies can help me.
I'm watching any and all crappy shows that I can get my hands on as if I haven't seen a working television in 3 years and I'm still in shock that certain people have shows but yet just can't.look.away.must.watch.
And as far as clothes go, I'm wearing the same three outfits over and over. Yes. Sort of like I'm living out of a backpack in the forests of Venezuela, except my outfits would not fit in a backpack because they are so incredibly large.
I'm even wearing mountain boots. Well sort of. I mean, they're by Merrell, so I imagine they're supposed to be fairly functional. You know. Just in case I have to climb a mountain in the next few weeks, I'll be prepared. But honestly, they are the only ones that fit my feet and will close up over my gargantuan calves (from all the hiking, of course). Heh.
And I'm eating like I haven't had anything but rice, fried cockroaches, and coconut tree bark extract smoothies for the past 4,009 days. Donuts? Give me 5. Pumpkin Pie? A whole one will do me just fine.
So, I'm calling this last month of pregnancy "The Rupert Month."
Sigh. If only they paid me a cool million for wearing a really bad tie-dye shirt and facial hair.