cankles and mom ass

I always vowed not to be one of those pregnant women who constantly complains about how fat she looks.

Before I was knocked up, it annoyed me when those with child moaned about their expanding girth. “You’re not fat! You’re pregnant!” I cried in response.

Maybe it was because I was jealous that they were pregnant and I wasn’t. They had something I wanted, so I didn’t want to hear them grumble about it. Plus, as a non-pregnant person, I couldn’t relate.

Oh, karma’s a bitch.

I won’t tell you how much I weigh because that’s none of your business. Truthfully, I don’t even know how many pounds I’ve packed on because I only step on the scale once a month at my doctor’s office. Plus, I’ve found that pregnant women are just as competitive about how much weight they’ve gained as skinny women are about how much they’ve lost, and I refuse to partake in that game.

I will tell you that my body shape is changing, and I’m not comfortable with it. Now I understand why pregnant women complain.

They don’t feel like themselves.

Around 10:30pm recently, I looked down at my feet and let out a wail.

“I have cankles!”

JB tried to assure me that my ankles were as slender as they’ve always been, but I didn’t believe him. When I stare at myself in the full length mirror, JB reminds me that I only look pregnant from the front because I’m also concerned that I’ve contracted a case of “mom ass.”

I think when you’re pregnant, your eyes play tricks on you. At least mine do.

{image by Loving Earth… because it’s ok if babies have cankles}