There are those who look absolutely beautiful and stunning when pregnant. And then there are those who, like me, look just like an Oompa Loompa.
I try not to be a hater. I really do. I try not to wish evil on the lovely ladies who somehow make it through nine months of gestation with just a tiny little watermelon of a belly sticking out of their bodies, and manage to keep their arms, legs, and behinds unaffected by pregnancy.
It’s just that sometimes I DO kind of hate them for showing up at the park and at the supermarket at the same exact time I do, flaunting their cute little preggo bods, while I waddle to and fro, feeling like I should be singing a song about Willy Wonka’s chocolate bars. Not fair at ALL.
It’s not for lack of trying on my behalf. I really AM making efforts to have a healthy pregnancy. I eat sensibly and healthfully, staying away from sweets, trying to balance my proteins and my carbs, taking my vitamins and drinking lots of water. I’ve been walking a few miles three or four days a week, and taking a once-a-week fitness class geared towards Senior Citizens (it’s totally pregnancy friendly, and the people who attend the class are warm and welcoming, even though I kind of stick out like a sore thumb among the crowd). And yet, the pregnancy pounds creep up, turning my body into a bowling ball with hands and feet.
I’ve tried to do other things to make me feel better about the way I look. I’ve bought some really lovely maternity clothing – lots of comfy, pretty tops that I think I might even wear post-pregnancy. It helps. Kind of. But most of the time I just feel like an Oompa Loompa dressed in a cute top and stretchy pants.
I DO try to not let it get to me. I try not to listen to the kind individuals who choose to remind me EVERY DAY that I look super duper pregnant and that my belly is SOOOO round (thanks, guys. I really appreciate that). I try not to pay too much attention when Em points at my midsection and says “Mama… BIIIIGGGG belly,” and laughs.
I try instead to focus on the kind words of one of the elderly ladies who attended my “Silver Sneakers” exercise class last week. She had asked me if I had already had the baby, because I looked much SMALLER than I had a few weeks before. When I told her I had a loooong ways to go before the birth, she told me I looked fantastic! I nearly kissed her on the mouth, I was so grateful. But of course, I also realized she was a good 90-something years old, and that her eyesight was… um… let’s say LESS than perfect.
Mostly, I try to focus on the fact that hopefully, in a little over four months from now, a little (or maybe big, the way things are going) baby boy will emerge from this Oompa Loompa body of mine, and that will make it all very much worthwhile.
Parenting with imagination. Or at least trying.