I wanted to wait until I looked a little less homeless, but I had a camera in my hand and as I was walking by, I noticed there was a mirror. I feared if I tried to wait until I was presentable, that would be at least halfway through the third trimester, so:
And correct me if I’m mistaken, but this pregnancy has gone on way too long without glitter letters.
That’s right, folks! It’s time for the annual premiere of Gratuitous Picture of Your Abdomen Sunday!
I’m only 6 or 7 weeks late starting this round, but I can assure you there will be MUCH MUCH MORE expanding to go!
For a physical reference, here I am during my pregnancy with Molly circa week 17 or so …
And here’s week 20:
So, as you can tell, I’m roughly a blarb-zillion times bigger than I was with Molly at 20 weeks … yet I’m not quite 19. And we haven’t even entered the “pound per week” portion of the show. It’s gonna be a long haul, kiddos.
To explain this phenomenon, here is an actual conversation between my uterus and my stomach muscles. It’s rated R for adult language.
July 4, 2010:
Uterus knocks on Abdomen’s office, clipboard in hand. Office overlooks a massive construction site. Abdomen is chugging coffee behind a desk, wearing a hard hat. Looks frazzled. Sweaty.
Ute: Hey…are you busy?
Ab: Well, sort of. Come on in.
Ute: I just wanted to stop by to tell you that things are looking really great around here. Your team has made amazing strides through the reconstruction. I know we haven’t made it easy on you.
Ab: Well thank you for noticing. And thanks for taking the time to stop by to let me know. No one ever does that anymore.
Ute: No problem.
Ab: How is your progress coming along? Sorry I haven’t had a chance to stop by to check it out. I heard you’ve constricted back to your normal size. About the size of a human fist, isn’t it? Things must be much more comfortable.
Ab: Are you ovulating again?
Ute: Well ..
Ab: Not good?
Ute: That’s part of the reason I stopped by today.
Ute: We’re … well, I just thought you should be the first to know.
Ute: nervously checks clipboard
Ab: Spit it out.
Ute: We’re implanted again.
Ab: (Stands) Are you f*cking kidding me?
Ute: I’m so sorry. You’ve got a great team. I’m sure you can finish your work in the spring.
Ab: (walks toward Uterus) You muther f***er.
Ute: I’m sory, it’s just that we’ve-
Abdomen turns, walks to window and opens. Hangs head out.
Ab: (whistles to workers) Boys! Pack it up.
Machines grind to a halt. Engines cut.
Ute: You know, you don’t have to respond like this. There is groundwork to be laid this winter, and by bathing suit season–
Ab: Hey, you’re right. You know what? Listen.
Ab: Go f*ck yourself.
Ute: That’s not professional.
Oh, and in case you were wondering, this is why the mirror looks like that:
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