My 21 Run

False advertising, that title of mine. There has been absolutely no running involved in my 21st week of pregnancy. Or in the preceding 20 weeks. Or in at least 8 months, really. But there has been a lot of flatulance, tummy stretching, and feel-good hormones. Thank god for whatever those endorphins are that grace the second trimester, because without them, I'd be a hot mess about how much I look like those beached sea lions at Fisheran's Wharf in San Francisco. And I've barely even crossed the starting line of my growth spurt.

Alex keeps reassuring me, "You're beautiful ... You're not even that big yet. You're going to get soooooooo much bigger!"

Thanks, babe, thanks. And to top it all off, I got to spend the Day of Gluttony (aka Thanksgiving) with my brother's tall, thin, long-haired gorgeous girlfriend, and my adorable, petite, well-dressed cousin. Everyone kept saying how jealous they were of me for the excuse to eat whatever I want. Little do they realize that, in fact, I can eat even less now than I could before. My stomach, the actual organ, has a whole lot less space to expand. Although my belly appears large and in charge, there's a little munchkin taking up a significant amount of room. And she's only banana-sized at this point. What my family should have been jealous about was my awesome stretchy-waisted pants. Maternity jeans are sort of like a mullet - the whole "business down below" and "party at the top" kind of thing. I totally dig it.

So anyway, 21 weeks feels pretty good. I have a normal amount of energy (or, at least, normal for me), which means I can work, hang out with my hubby, and sleep my requisite 8-9 hours per night and feel just great. Then again, I STILL haven't worked in that whole exercise thing yet. I'm starting to actually believe myself when I say that walking the dog is good enough. But when I step on that scale next week at the OB, I'm going to wish I'd been "wogging" (walk jogging) and lifting weights or something. My nails are no longer long and beautiful, as being back to work has me back picking my nails. My hair feels the same wimpiness as pre-pregnancy. My skin hasn't broken out or anything, and I'm not uncommonly hairy. In fact, I'm my typical nearly-hairless self. My belly has changed, for sure. When I lie down I have to pick my head up to see my underwear over the curve of my tummy. And there sure as hell aren't any ribs or hip bones poking out anywhere to remind me of a skeleton under all this mass. I'm sleeping great. I'm actually more productive than ever, which I attribute to being back on a fulltime working schedule. My sex drive, or lack thereof, is the same as ever. And I'm as emotionally stable as I have been (since taking Zoloft). So pretty much I feel great, like my normal self, but several size too big. Like I wouldn't want to go to my high school reunion looking like this. Thank goodness for a liar of a husband and good friends who tell me I look great - because I think I've still got the uphill battle of bigness to climb for the next 19 weeks! Oh, but it will all be so worth it once I meet this little peanut of ours - I just hope she is as healthy and adorable as we picture her.