One hilarious thing about writing is tricking your audience into reading an article based on a provocative title. I know what you were thinking, silly people but this is at least a PG-13 blog. It’s my “blessing in my belly making my stomach stick so far out” that has gotten to a point that may or not be “too big”. It’s all relative, I suppose. I might find my stomach to be too large, and my body giving out on me seems to agree. It’s more than aches and pains, it’s the hilarious ways it affects your life in the most vain and unimportant ways.

Recently while showering, I went to shave my legs only to find out this might be harder than normal. As if not cutting my leg open isn’t enough of a task shaving, I found my stomach made this more difficult that I had hoped. I did it, barely, while sitting down in an awkward position determined not to be that woman who makes her husband do it for her. I think I’ll go amazon chic before I allow myself to lose that sort of independence. I haven’t decided if having him paint my nails is the same idea, but on principle I’ll go without certain vanities. I bet I’ll give in though, I don’t think I could allow myself to go 3 months with hairy legs, especially with summer on my heels.

Yesterday, I wanted to eat popcorn while watching Game of Thrones or as I call it “the highlight of my week”. This doesn’t seem like it would be overly difficult. I go to the cabinet where the popcorn was and as I reached up to grab the popcorn, I realized that my stomach stuck out so much that I couldn’t reach to grab my popcorn because I was too far away to just grab it. Normally when this happens (a common occurrence when you’re barely 5’2″), I climb onto the counter to reach what I need and gloat how I don’t need my 6ft husband to reach things for me. Stupidly, I attempted to climb, but quickly realized that climbing wasn’t an option either. Not just because my husband looked on disapprovingly with a lecture ready, but because my fat little body was no longer as agile as I was 6 months ago.

So as I waddle around with my fan/spritzer combo to cool me off, I complain about the discomforts of the miracle of life while looking about how large I am in my head. The bright point is every kick I know I’m doing something right and in a few short months there will be a child here that everyone can fawn over and will be there to make me smile and forget about everything before. Then I’ll forget enough to go through it again.