Okay, okay. In answer to repeated requests, I will show my Buddha bellyness in all its middle-weighty glory - but not nekkers, thankyouverymuch. We wouldn't want to scare anyone.
The kid is already dancing Flamenco on my bladder and protesting mightily if my slumpy posture infringes on her personal space. It's no problem at all for strangers to be able to tell on which side of my body she's chilling. (She prefers the left, I've noticed.)
She's got bat-like tendencies, too - she's into roosting up under my ribcage when I'm not using my palms to push her back into my much roomier midsection. My preferred method of discipline is to
grab my stomach, jostle it like crazy and laugh like Santa when she's being kicky, willful and disobedient.
The way I see it, it's never too early to start building character. Today's stats: 23 weeks, 1 day pregnant. 151 pounds. (This is the most I've ever weighed in my entire life, but apparently I remain on the low end of the expected weight gain scale. For now, anyway. My new ice cream diet should really kick into effect at any moment.)
Oh - and I'm officially a "C" cup, which means the girls also weigh more than they have in their entire lives. I'd jump up and down about it, but it'd hurt too much.
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