The Dark Horse Rides at Midnight!

At some point in a pregnancy a woman has to admit she's fat. Not the " I'm so ugly, pitty me" fishing for compliments fat. Not the " Lord help me I can NOT put down the fork" fat. But you can't tell me your pre-pregnancy jeans still fit. I'll call you a liar to your face and not feel bad about it at all. Heck! You may NEVER get back into those size 5's. Though I'm not certain I'd want to. Yes I'm aware that the sex appeal of a woman 25lbs over her wedding weight doesn't exactly seem glamorous, or even sensible. Lets face facts; your fat. You're bigger than you would normally be and you're holding more than the 15lbs of baby and amniotic fluid in your middle. Honestly it's been the one thing I have NOT had to get used to. I am owning this fatness! bring it on! it takes a lot of insulation to keep a baby from freezing to death. Plus they don't actually start putting on their own fat until the last few months anyway. So SOMEone has to carry it for them. I'm not saying you can eat whatever you want, but you're body is going to store a little extra away to help you with the energy burn required to build a person, and to feed said person, and to keep you from going comatose for 40 weeks. plus food just tastes good. So yes, we get fat. It's the prefect kind of fat. The kind where you lose 15lbs in a matter of hours instead of weeks. The kind where you have something to show for it at the end of all of the nonsense. My husband lovingly tells me I'm beautiful. Will softly ask to touch the belly, and puts up with me wrenching his arm across the bed in the middle of the night to feel the baby kick. He's been a good sport about the fact that I am no longer that sultry vixen in a two-piece standing on the beach in San Diego, ca smiling at him diving for a ball in the sand. He's been a good sport about the fact that I've never been so unladylike in my life! He gives me a half smile when a burp accidentally escapes my lips during dinner conversation. Patiently endures the TMI moments at the doctors where we talk about constipation, hemorrhoids, and all other kinds of things men should NOT know about their women! Plus He's going to watch my abdominals squeeze me like a tube of toothpaste from head to toe; revealing a child He helped create. . . and everything else that comes out of a human body. What do I think of all this really? crap. Is there a way I can have Him in the room, but somehow skip the other bodily stuff that comes with a baby during birth? Can we just have the stork deliver this one? I am struggling to embrace the idea that so many of the things we, as women, attempt to keep back will suddenly; and unavoidably be exposed. I think that any man willing to watch his gracious beautiful bride under go one of the least flattering transformations possible and still love her. . . that man deserves respect! Any man who changes his mind after that clearly wasn't ready for the awesome that is woman. I'm sure the men in our lives find it almost as horrifying as we do to watch our girlish figures transform into a woman. the initial shock of it all is a lot to take in. What if we embrace those moments? What would happen if we walked out of the bedroom, looked at the people who love us and stated " Holy Moly I'm fat!". Would they think we were searching for praise, or would they understand we're just wrapping our mind around the new profile we're growing into? Could we say what we're thinking in an attempt to wrap our minds around it all, and have people recognize we're simply on a journey? I'd like to think we could. I've been asked how I'm feeling by almost everyone who see's me. At first I wondered if I looked sick. Then I realized that they were trying to help me come to grips with what was happening. I've even responded ( to the few I knew to be mothers) " I feel Fat.". They lovingly smile in an almost secret acknowledgement of what I'm experiencing and politely tell me it will get better. Not totally sure if it's patronizing, or genuine yet. I think that as women we need to accept what we are. Our genetics, our energy levels, our metabolism, our efforts, and our struggles. We need to enjoy the fact that our partner in crime is experiencing the same changes we are. We need to stop looking at what we HAD and start working on what we HAVE. So the cute belly-button is gone, and there are stretch marks or surgical scars. So the thin, streamlined hips are gone and we have more of a curve there than before. So we sag a little more up top because of the influx, and then recess of fluids in our bosom. Work with what you got! Stop buying tummy shirts, and start buying heels to show of those chiseled calf muscles you got! Stop trying to fit into skinny jeans and start wearing skirts that swish and sway drawing attention to that dairy-aire! Stop wearing flimsy shirts and start wearing an underwire bra with a well formed neckline in your tops! and most of all; get yourself some activity! get something that works out those area's you now need to highlight. I've had to ask help from siblings, or friends who have bodies different from mine. I've had to search for a new body type, and figure out how to work it, shape it, dress it, and love it. I am fat! you hear me?! I AM FAT!!! and I finally have some place to rest my laptop while I type this entry. ;)