I'm officially past the halfway mark at six months pregnant.
People now feel completely comfortable approaching me and asking when I'm due. It's not a question of if I am pregnant now, it's a question of "Is this lady going to drop a kid on the floor at any point while I'm checking out her groceries." Yes, I am THAT big. Just ask my vagina and asshole. They know best because each morning when I go to get out of bed, they scream at me, "You're going to stand up? Right now? FUUUUCK YOUUUUUU!"
i've also taken to telling people my due date is February instead of March just to mitigate some of the shock of hearing that I'm not due, like, tomorrow. I'm officially due March 8, but I'm truly shooting for 36 weeks at February 8.
And so, as I comfort my asshole and vagina, telling them not to worry so much and that everything is going to be just fine, I'm also resigning myself to the fact that pants are not in my future for the next three months. Not even maternity ones. My belly is sitting so low this time that the pesky seam on maternity pants (right around the hip area that separates the panel stretching from your pelvis to right under your tits, cuts off circulation. Not comfy. And the low-slung ones? No way. I might as well, put a rubberband around my hips.
So, what do I wear? Dresses, leggings, maternity tights. I'm making the best of it, but today for example, my body is covered entirely in sweater material. My tights are cable knit. My sweater is wool. I half expect my kids to start playing house with me like I'm one of their homemade-looking-but-Mommy-really-bought-you-at-the-store-for-way-too-much-money stuffed animals made out knit material.
On that note, I'm off to dive into the very last of my kids' Halloween candy. Toodles...