Yesterday I had someone ask me if I was having twins. Remember, I'm only 14 weeks along. Admittedly, I look about five months at this point, but the twin question? Already? I assured her I was not and then sighed as the inevitable "Wow, you're gonna have one huge baby!" comment followed. Again, I assured her I was not. And then I bored her silent with my standard tedious pregnancy history. I plan to do the same here.
It's difficult to explain my personal physique to other people and why I look unnaturally and monumentally huge compared to everyone else with the same gestational aged baby as myself. For one, I have absolutely no stomach muscles. My body gave up on those about halfway through with Peawhistle. To make matters worse, maternity pants offer no support whatsoever. So what used to be shoved against me with the assistance of the threadbare strength of my Eddie Bauer jeans is now left to hang pathetically in front of me. Mind you, it used to be even worse on Sundays. Given my horrendously long waist and unnaturally midget-like legs, no pantyhose actually stay up past my waist for more than 10 minutes. That is, except for the maternity pantyhose that are designed to ride up far over your belly's expansiveness. So starting at about six weeks pregnant I had to start wearing those suckers, and if there's one thing they're not, it's "control top."
Anyway. So it all hangs out in front. A lot. Mostly because there is absolutely no other place in my torso for the baby to sit, what with that space being occupied mostly by my valuable stores of fat that see me through the long harsh months across the Sahari Desert. So my little satellite lives entirely outside of my body, attached onto it only by a thin layer of skin. With Sputnik in place, it pulls all of the fat and extra skin from all over my body and yanks it out in front of me. So surprisingly, I don't look like I'm pregnant from the back at all. In fact, I look thinner from back there. Even from the front, or even just the waist up I don't look that pregnant. But you catch me on the profile (which isn't hard to do in my condition) and, based entirely upon past experiences, you and your companions will gasp in wide-eyed horror at the sight before you. That's also when you'll unpolitely ask just how much weight I've gained in my obviously 90-week pregnancy.
For the record, I haven't gained a pound since even before I got pregnant. No, I'm not kidding. But look at my gut. Go ahead; I dare you. See if you believe me. Of course you don't. Because I'm having twins. Huge, fricking twins.
In other happy news, both Jody and Lisa have delivered delicious cookies to me within the past two days (where were these people in December?). Because if there's one thing I'm not, it's fat enough. Thanks again!