It's no secret, I'm gigantic when I'm pregnant. Since I am mastering my 5th pregnancy, I am already aware of this unfortunate information and don't really appreciate being reminded of my ever-growing stature by each individual that has the misfortune of seeing me waddle through my day. For future reference, preggo ladies don't like to be reminded that they "look like they are going to pop", "are big enough to be carrying twins", or "will never make their due date" (by the way, I always go 9-10 days over...shut-up!) If there was some major medical calamity with my current status, I'm sure my OB/GYN would inform me. However, snapping at the random passer-by as they cautiously pass my way for fear that my water may instantaneously burst...is usually frowned upon in our society. So I generally smile, chuckle along, and wish them hemorrhoids, zits, and cellulite quietly in the confines of my own head. But, truth be told, at 38 weeks I'm starting to get somewhat annoyed by this behavior.
With that said, one would think that no individuals or place would be as sensitive to the needs, emotions, and sensitivities of a pregnant lady as the OB's office! I, however, have been proven wrong. At my appointment following Thanksgiving I was greeted with the wide-eyed stare of the nurse as she commented on how huge I have gotten. Awesome! Then I am asked to step on the scale only to watch it quiver under my enormity and blink a green horrible number at me. More awesome! Obviously at this stage of the game I am going to add a pound or 2.....or 8 or 9...whatever! But it should just be quietly written in my chart without comment.
Now, I should also mention that with each of my pregnancies I have suffered from a personal problem...one that tends to pinch, pull, chafe, rub, squeeze and generally cause untold discomfort and irritation. This "problem" to which I elude....is my reluctance to accept the fact that as my tummy grows so do "other" areas...requiring the purchase and use of larger panties! This is a battle to which I usually refuse to admit defeat wearing my regular-person panties until the end. Thongs, by the way, are not meant to be stretched in such a manner. Ouch!
However, after the barrage of well-meaning "compliments" regarding my apparent massiveness, the scary-as-hell weight that I must now claim to be my own, and my nurse's shock and awe as I rounded the corner of the OB's office...I decided to admit defeat. I hauled my "wide load" to the maternity store and bought myself some large...yes LARGE...preggo undies in which to encase my ever-growing posterior.
If you can't beat 'em...join 'em. I will say, however, that I will never again underestimate the power of a properly fitting pair of panties. Ahhhhh!