I now understand why pregnant women are always rubbing their bellies. Or I least why I rub mine. It's mostly a subconscious thing. Sometimes it's to better feel the kicking, which is mostly still light enough to be cute and endearing. Other times it's just a way to say, "Hey little guy, how are things going in there." But most of the time, I'm sure it's because they're thinking (as I certainly am), "Oh my gawd, this thing is huge. I can't believe how big it is. Ouch, I forgot that I can't lean into the sink like I used to be able to."
With a shirt on this time.. but you can still see the hugeness (and the dust on the mirror. Oi.)
For me, touching my stomach is my attempt at trying to reconcile my body and my brain. My brain still thinks I'm my regular size. I am constantly hitting my stomach on the back of chairs, bumping into counters, and rubbing my belly against newly painted walls. (Seriously, you have no idea how many t-shirts I destroyed doing this in one single weekend of painting. Totally clean shirt, except for the belly.)
So I'm trying to use my sense of touch to communicate to my brain, "Hey. You. See this thing down here. Stop whacking it again stuff. It hurts."
Brain, meet Belly. You two are going to work together if it's the last thing I do.
So far it hasn't helped, but I'm not giving up yet.
(And yes, I'm still a week behind on posting these pictures. Life is busy. I'll try to be better - promise.)
Posts
0 comments:
Post a Comment