Scott and I are heading to PEI this Saturday for our last big trip before Bug makes her world premiere in November. In a couple of days, I'll be skipping around the east coast hopefully basking in the hot summer sunshine and flopping on PEI's best beaches with Scott and our friends Jim and Liz. In a bathing suit. While in my 6th month of pregnancy.
There just isn't any kind way to say it...I look crazy in a bathing suit and I don't mean "crazy good" either. I've now got cellulite where I never knew you could get it plus my body is expanding in every bloody direction, even in areas beyond the belly and boobs. Cripes, even my thighs are in on the conspiracy! My body has turned into a black hole, sucking in lard from all over the universe so if you got up this morning and wondered where the hell your butter went, look no further...it has now set up residence in my ass. (No refunds)
Now, I know I'm not fat...that I'm just pregnant and since my doctors told me a couple of weeks ago to sit on my butt doing nothing until further notice I'm just feeling a bit out of sorts. However, sometimes I have a moment and Scott faces THE QUESTION, you know the one..."Am I fat?" Well I had one of those moments the other day while getting dressed and I just couldn't help myself...I asked.
Never in a million years did I expect to get the response he offered.
He actually said, "Yes."
Aaaaand then...he just sat there!
Honestly, I'm not sure whether his brain was working at the time or whether it was caught in a fear induced feedback loop because with that answer he should have been running for the hills hoping I haven't yet managed to lay my hands on a sniper rifle. (Scott doesn't labour under the false impression that all those episodes of "The Unit" and PS3 shooting games were 'time well wasted.' He knows covert ops training when he sees it, folks!)
I'm not quite sure what did it...the look on my face, the will to survive, or some instinctive response coded into his DNA because after that initial blankout, he followed up with what I'm sure he thought was a brilliant ass-saving clarification, "but you look fabulous and it is not 'fat fat', just fat you're carrying around because you're pregnant." Ummm...HOW THE HELL IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MAKE ME FEEL BETTER? Am I supposed to believe that if he woke up one morning to realize he's going bald and I confirmed that with a casual "yup" that somehow he would be comforted if I told him it was happening because he's getting older and that even though he's turning into a chrome dome he looks fabulous? Puh-lease!
So far I've resisted buying an actual "maternity" bathing suit, instead choosing to humiliate myself by wearing the bikini I bought when I was only a few weeks pregnant. Will it still fit on this trip or will I be forced to break down and end up looking like one of those scary old women I see at the beach wearing what qualified as a risque bathing suit in the 1880's? Stay tuned, dear readers...