Fear not, avid followers of this blog. I am back. This blogging thing is so high pressure! What do bloggers do when they have actual readers depending on them??? If they are like that chick Julie, they write about yet another convoluted and occasionally repulsive recipe from "The Art of French Cooking". I say occasionally repulsive because I decided to read "Julie and Julia" during the first trimester of pregnancy, and one thing a woman with morning/noon/evening sickness should never do is attempt to read about brains soaked in red wine.
Sadly I do not have a concrete theme such as a famous recipe book that I am attempting to cook my way through. However, I DID think of one unifying factor to all of my blog topic ideas (insert drum roll)......things that are round. Our cat Francine, for example. Or the star of my new favorite book, "Diary of a Wombat", who looks remarkably like Francine (see picture for proof).
My pregnant self, I am proud to say. And the list goes on. Even the star of the previous blog entry, Willy the gerbil, was round (sadly no picture available, but imagine the hamster from "Bolt" and you get the idea). Willy would chew his way through anything we put in his path. Which led to many amusing games like "guess how long it will take Willy to chew through this toilet paper roll" and "count the holes that Willy chewed in my new hypercolor T-shirt". Hmmm, this could explain the lack of dates in 7th grade.
The profound point of all of this is to say that pregnancy has allowed me a greater appreciation of roundness. And this is miraculous, because like the majority of women I know, I spent roughly half of my mental energy in my teens and early 20s counting calories and daydreaming about how much better life would be if I were a size 8. The only time I ever approached a size 8 was after a relationship ended, when I had a brief rebound affair with chain smoking. Let me tell you, life was NOT better then, despite the glamorous waifdom and chronic bronchitis.
There is something to be said for feeling bountiful, womanly, and maternal. A friend and I use the term "squishy" to describe things that are lovable and warm, such as our mothers and each other, and I am happy that our little son will have a squishy mom to nuzzle up against. I only hope that once he is born, I will continue to feel so gracious towards these mama curves, rather than trying to sweat them off at excessive hot yoga classes (which may have crossed my mind a few times). Ideally, Thumper will learn to appreciate real beauty, rather than women who look like skelator.
And on that note, I am going to go have a snack, in preparation for fondue dinner.
Sadly I do not have a concrete theme such as a famous recipe book that I am attempting to cook my way through. However, I DID think of one unifying factor to all of my blog topic ideas (insert drum roll)......things that are round. Our cat Francine, for example. Or the star of my new favorite book, "Diary of a Wombat", who looks remarkably like Francine (see picture for proof).
My pregnant self, I am proud to say. And the list goes on. Even the star of the previous blog entry, Willy the gerbil, was round (sadly no picture available, but imagine the hamster from "Bolt" and you get the idea). Willy would chew his way through anything we put in his path. Which led to many amusing games like "guess how long it will take Willy to chew through this toilet paper roll" and "count the holes that Willy chewed in my new hypercolor T-shirt". Hmmm, this could explain the lack of dates in 7th grade.The profound point of all of this is to say that pregnancy has allowed me a greater appreciation of roundness. And this is miraculous, because like the majority of women I know, I spent roughly half of my mental energy in my teens and early 20s counting calories and daydreaming about how much better life would be if I were a size 8. The only time I ever approached a size 8 was after a relationship ended, when I had a brief rebound affair with chain smoking. Let me tell you, life was NOT better then, despite the glamorous waifdom and chronic bronchitis.
There is something to be said for feeling bountiful, womanly, and maternal. A friend and I use the term "squishy" to describe things that are lovable and warm, such as our mothers and each other, and I am happy that our little son will have a squishy mom to nuzzle up against. I only hope that once he is born, I will continue to feel so gracious towards these mama curves, rather than trying to sweat them off at excessive hot yoga classes (which may have crossed my mind a few times). Ideally, Thumper will learn to appreciate real beauty, rather than women who look like skelator.
And on that note, I am going to go have a snack, in preparation for fondue dinner.
My OB called my body "fluffy"... ;)
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