Pop quiz – am I carrying this baby in my ass or my belly? Hard to tell as both have grown colossally!
This week I’ve reached peak daily Rennie consumption and I’m concerned that my entire genetic make up is now almost entirely chalk. Combined with my colossal pregnant size and pasty skin, I’m in danger of being mistaken for the white cliffs of Dover. P&O ferries will start navigating towards me if I don’t deliver this baby soon.
I’m also at ‘that’ point in pregnancy where my stretchy indoor clothes ‘that under no circumstances should see the light of day outside the house’ have become my daily attire and the only garments I can bear to squeeze my shape into. Basically, my fashion options at this stage are muumuu smocks a la Homer Simpson when he achieved morbid obesity to work from home. All I need now is a matching ‘fat guy hat’.
And quite possibly the most glamorous pregnancy side effect is the onset of excess saliva, and dribbling uncontrollably. I wasn’t even sure if this was a pregnancy thing or just a weird unfortunate character trait I’d developed because of lack of sleep / brain slowly decaying from parenthood. But low and behold, those pesky hormones and all that acid reflux seem to be responsible for me dribbling like a St. Bernard on heat.
Very concerned that I could easily have another month of this pregnancy, in which case by Easter I will be a giant, dribbling mess that only fits into a big top circus tent. Watch this space!