What. a. day.

I just couldn’t leave up that bummer of a post as the first post when people read this site.  So here’s something else instead!

Surreal: driving home and singing a little too loudly, when your best friend from high school pulls up next to you in a convertible BMW Z5. 

And he’s producing a show here.  A show he wrote.  It’s awesome.  I’m so incredibly proud of him.  And you know that I’ll be there with bells on.

Of course, that makes for a play-packed weekend.  We’re also trekking up the mountain to see A Midsummer Night’s Dream, which is one of my favorites from the Bard.  I’ve heard amazing things about the cast, and that they’re all having a great time.  We can’t wait to take dinner up there and have a family night.

And Secret Garden.  Man, shows abound!!

My husband just walked in.  He biked to work today.  I’m so proud of him.  And he didn’t die!!  He’s just so hot.  Truly.

I love how some things never, ever change.

Don’t you just HATE those people who relish in even the negative attention, because it’s still attention?  We see this most often in children, but it doesn’t entirely subside as adulthood comes: think of how many people you know who revel in scandal and drama. (Paris.)

Remember how, occassionally, you have this fantastic opportunity to feel superior to Sarah?  Oh, get ready: it is time yet again.

Ready?

Here it is: I hate getting fat.

Now, spare me the “you’re not fat, you’re pregnant” line.  Because I KNOW that.  I’m aware that there is a little parasitic miracle in my belly who requires a larger caloric intake than I like to handle.  But that doesn’t make it any easier.

My breasts are HUGE.  Of course, Ronda is laughing at me.  And rightfully so.  But right now, they are massive, and even on my body.  I get a LOT of attention from guys whose eyes haven’t wandered down past my bustline.  Waiters are especially attentive.  And dear Lord, don’t make me jog or run.  Or even drive over a bumpy road.  It looks like a jello mold on a vibrator.

My ass?  Oh, Lord, my ass.  It’s huge.  My sleep shorts which used to be sexy because they almost fell off me are now nearing toward the too-small side.  Of course, my gauchos are still blessifully large.  They still almost fall off of me.  But for the most part, I just have a huge ass.

I have put on a whopping eight pounds since this ordeal started.  We’re just now at 15 weeks.  Not even half way.

I think why it’s so hard is that, for the ten or so years before Lil Peep, I fought HARD for every pound lost.  I was the one in Body Jam twice a week, who lived on SparkPeople, and I was fairly happy with my size.  I loved my wardrobe.  I thought I looked damn good at my wedding.

Now, I’m being told to stay off my feet.  No more Body/Turbo Jam.  And, by the way, you need 300 extra calories a day.  I’m being smart: my extra calories are usually a yogurt smoothie or some edamame, but still!  I walk daily, and it usually gets my heart rate way up and I get sweaty, but I still feel like a lump.

I so wanted to be the flighty, cute pregnant girl.  The one who just glowed.  Instead, I feel like the fat girl whose nose has been bleeding nonstop for two days and she gets winded walking up stairs.

It’s just one of those days.