If there's anything that random strangers like to comment on after running you through the gauntlet of pregnancy questions, I generally get the infamous "Oh, you have to make it through a whole summer pregnant."
Yes. Brilliant observation. Now just rub my belly or ask me the gender and go away. Seriously, what about an "Oh, you look so great" or even "Three?! Do you know what you're getting into?"
Truthfully, this is the first pregnancy that will take me through a complete summer. But if you count my daughter's pregnancy, with her arriving on July 7 after a Mississippi summer that usually starts around mid-February, than this one should be a walk in the park. Or I suppose a trudge through a very deep sweaty sticky swamp with no Gold Bond between my thighs.
[Side note: Thanks for the suggestions, by the way. Who knew there were so many kissing thighs, so many products to remedy such a predicament, and such a great reason to purchase my first ever Monistat product - may it be the last. Amen]
But really, the worst part of it all is the maternity swim suit issue. The dreaded gigunda bathing suit that does nothing but over emphasize the fact that you're pregnant. There are no slightly high cut leg holes, or low dipping necklines. It's basically spandex constructed in a way to scream "PREGNANT WOMAN HERE" -- usually in large, extremely subtle patterns.
With Quinlan I just wore a regular bikini, proudly displaying a stomach that I had always been self-conscious about. But this time around, I'm not so much concerned about the large belly as I am about the ominous back-side that would send a regular bikini running quickly back to the racks. As my daughter asked me yesterday, "Mommy, why is your butt so big?"
And your clever response, por favor?
Because Daddy likes big butts and he cannot lie."
Mommy always promised you the moon, honey."
Better to sit on your brother with."
Well, to distract from my thighs, of course!"