As the third trimester progresses I find myself working harder than ever, for lack of a better phrase and because i have no patience to find one, to keep my shit together. I have discovered that with the third trimester the tears are fighting their way out again. Unlike the first trimester, however, I have better control over this emotion. THANK YOU, HIGHER POWER! My feelings are more sensitive than they have been though. For example, I have gone south for the weekend to run errands (which sucked btw because twenty minutes into the two hours ride my butt was numb, my bladder was full, and the baby was in THE MOST uncomfortable position EVER!) I go down to the lobby first thing this morning to take full advantage of their continental breakfast and just as I am about to reach for the bagels, this bit– WOMAN totally cuts in front of me, bypasses the tongs and sticks her nasty, dirty fingers in the case and grabs whatever it was she wanted. I, then, proceeded to pour my cereal on her head and kick her in the shins as I screamed, “CROSS ME AGAIN, $@#!%.” and smashed her bagel under under my swollen foot.
That didn’t really happen, it’s true up till the part with the cereal. I just stared daggers at her and hoped she would trip. She didn’t.
That was just the beginning of my morning.
I have been trying to avoid excessive time spent in front of the mirror as I now double in size in a matter of days. Today, as I got ready for my shower it was not so easy to avoid. Needless to say, I am disgusted by my body. More so by my legs and feet than anything else, believe it or not. I can’t reach my legs to shave them, I can’t reach my feet to lather them up with soap. Forget help with either of those, tried and was denied. Icing on the cake was getting a close look in the mirror with words of family member’s playing in my head of how big I am. (Not in a “aw look how big you are” big) “You need to eat less, I wasn’t that big when I was pregnant, you’ve gained weight everywhere not just in your belly, you need to exercise.” Trust me! If I could go out there right now to work out for hours I effing would! It’s hard not to be jealous of other pregnant women at times. Mostly at those who have help from their donor. I try not to be because I don’t know their story/situation, but it’s hard. They have shaven legs and their feet smell like soap while I’m being told I can’t reach my feet cause I’m fat.
I just want hair-free legs and to put soap on my feet, not just let it run down my hairy legs and hope some gets on my feet.