Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes (incomplete)

In case you couldn't have guessed, I'm not wearing goth clothes and lolita dresses through pregnancy. Truth be told I haven't worn that stuff in quite awhile, and the few outfits I did have were reserved for special outings. Overall though, my style is the same since pre-pregnancy, mostly geared towards laziness, comfort, and mobility. The only difference is now how people view me. I guess being pregnant means you have to wear nothing but oversized t-shirts.

When I look at my reflection straight on, my boyish figure has disappeared. Hips has grown where there was once horse-flanks adding a strange curve I have never before seen on my body. Even when I got fat I still never had much hip, so I think this is a delightful change. Looking at myself from an anterior view, things are much the same despite having gained 15lbs or so it doesn't really look like I'm a big fat-ass, but when I turn to look at my profile I am shocked and uneasy every time. I'm 23 weeks now and growing steadily, still much more growing to do, but when I see myself in the mirror I wonder "how in the fuck?? What the hell??" According to the mom-website that e-mails me about weekly changes, Dixie is now the size of a spaghetti squash and it's pretty much what my swollen belly looks like. I don't think I'll ever grow accustomed to this new body. I hear afterwards I have saggy boobs and stretch marks to look forward too, I guess I had better enjoy it. I will never look this good again my entire life.

Considering looks and style but concerning mental changes, something strange happened to me the other day. I showed up at someone's house with a friend of mine. Inside a wild ass mom-party was raging. Four or five women, all mothers and their children all hanging out and getting turnt up together. Some mothers were drinking and the children varying in ages from...(excluding my friend's infant son) I'm going to say 4-6 because I'm not too familiar with children and what they look like at different ages... were running about and having a a blast. Maybe it was because some of them were tipsy but I got a lot of remarks about my "style." One woman said she liked my whole "thing" and another called me "edgy." I'm not sure how I felt about that, I certainly don't feel edgy and I wasn't at the maternity store like "where is the most badass, edgy, and hardcore maternity stuff ya got??" I don't know. I probably would've taken it as a compliment in my teens and early twenties but now....I just don't know. I wasn't trying to be anything apart from cool, comfortable, and mobile.

Here's the edgy outfit, and the edgy dirty mirror.

Where I was complaining before about the in-between stage of not quite looking pregnant (just looking like I had a beer belly) now I finally look obviously pregnant and it's a whole new world of thoughts and social encounters. That thing that all pregnant women loathe has finally begun happening to me, people reach out and touch my stomach without permission or warning. So far, it has only been family which isn't too horrible, but it is a little awkward. Despite looking tough (I guess), I'm really mostly a passive pushover so I don't think I'll ever have the heart to tell people to lay off the goods.

Another realization of mental change occurred when I went to Hogan's Heroes to get a late night sandwich. Let's be real, I know I'm hot *wink* It's probably all I have going for me, but when someone flirts with me now it's just....bizarre. The guy at the counter, perhaps he was being overly friendly, but it seemed flirtatious to me with a lot of smiling and glancing my way and asking a lot of unprompted questions about my night. I wondered "who the heck flirts with pregnant women?" Someone who either has a very specific fetish or likes damsels in distress, because what pregnant women isn't in distress? It's distressing seeing your abdomen extend and feeling exhausted! Some women get up in arms about being catcalled and flirted with, personally I like knowing that I look good enough to risk a sexual harassment lawsuit. It lets me know I'm doing something right :).
I guess feminists would disagree and say that I have many other positive qualities that I should look to for validation and the patriarchy has tricked me into viewing my looks as an all-encompassing sign of success....but...come on, I just discussed my academic failures, this is all I have OK, don't belittle it! Anyway I used to like it...now it's just unusual.

Boobs are back to D cups, this is still smaller than they were before the reduction surgery. As long as I don't hit triple D again I'll be O.K. I don't even care if they're ruined, before my surgery I told the doctor to take them all the way off, no cup because I hate them and they get in the way when you run or dance or jump or do anything.

I'll never forget the day I got a coupon in the mail for a free bra from Victoria's Secret. For a poor girl like me, this is a seriously big deal. Those bras are a far cry from the flimsy Walmart shit I usually ended up wearing and having my massive boobs spill over the top to produce the unflattering "quadboob." When I got down to VS I asked where the Triple D's were and the women told me they didn't carry sizes that large and I had to go to Cacique. Well not only do I not have a coupon for Cacique but also.....THAT IS THE FAT LADY STORE!!!! So! I have to shop at the fat lady store because I have massive mammaries? Nothing else on me is plus size! Needless to say, my heart sank!

Boy-howdy, first catcalling then fat-shaming? My blog is getting edgy! Don't kill me Tumblr I am a bisexual female minority!  (and I'm never serious)


I'm not the only one to be going through changes. My mild-mannered Joshua is turning into the berserker prince from my favorite story. The other day at the springs we had established a nice shady spot by the water and at the foot of a large tree. It was close enough so we could still keep the site in view from the water, and dangle our feet in from just few paces away. It was pretty perfect, until a group of 6 people or so all showed up, sat directly beside us, and simultaneously lit up cigarettes and began puffing away like the little engine that could (die of lung cancer.) I decided we should relocate, Joshua was furious. He began spouting all kinds of anger, talking about robbing people who deserve it and fighting those guys or telling them they were assholes and all kinds of other stuff. While it's true they are assholes (who decides to form a chain smoking gang around an obviously pregnant woman?) I always avoid a fight.