Tomorrow’s the next scheduled visit with Dr.R.
I have my list of questions in my Palm Pilot [did you know that pretty much everything is bad for you?] which she’ll dutifully answer after measuring my ever-expanding gut and listening for the heartbeat.
My plan is to shock the bejeezus out of her with my profound and new-found girth.
I don’t think it’s really going to work that way, but that’s my plan. She’ll console me with something generic, like ‘you’re right on target’ or ‘everything’s as it should be’. Psh. She’s only delivered, what, a gabillion babies? This is me we’re talking about here. I am now a walking abdomen.
Yes, I know it’s going to get bigger. That’s the appalling part. I’m not sure there’s anywhere left for it to go. How am I to sit? Drive? Breathe? Contort myself into twisty poses in yoga class? [oh, yeah, that’s right: I’m not supposed to do that full on for much longer…]
Sigh. That’s okay. I’ll just have to console myself with the [questionable] likely fact that I’m on schedule and with the knowledge that any holiday indulging will be taken care of in the regularly scheduled continued bulging of my belly.
parents have arrived for Christmas – posting as time is available, but it will likely be brief.
happy [end of] soltice…it’s longer days from here on in!