Le Bump and Le Frump

I never thought I'd be one of those pregnant ladies.

You know,

The one that sneers every time someone says,

"Oh, look at your bump!"


"You mean the Mt. Everest jutting out of my abdomen?"

Yes,

I guess, for most of my life (minus the 18 months I lived in Starch-ville, Europe), I've had the blessing of keeping my corporeal volume within a standard deviation of +/- "OK."

But, it's happened:

The sudden increased pregnancy-induced gravitational pull.

And it's pulling down my spirits, too.

It all started a week ago, when a gentleman in the elevator asked me how many days I have left.

"You mean months?"

Abrupt change of subject.

And then there was the co-worker who, quizzically staring at my gut, wondered aloud if there are two in there.

And then the well-meaning family member who used the words "large" and "in charge" in the same breath.

And finally, the friend who, gosh darnit, was just trying to figure out where all that plump came from so fast.

I'm pregnant, people!

And in case you all forgot,

Along with the plump come a whole slew of emotions as my body changes--daily!--before my eyes.

Emotions.

And hormones.

You know...those little things that make us females range from weepy to witchy and back again in seconds, flat?

(Of course, without them, I obviously wouldn't be in the situation I am today. Blessed, blessed hormones.)

So don't tread on me!

But, I think the most annoying part of it all is that this is natural--and should be beautiful--

But we are so dang conditioned to think that stick figures are the only figures worth having.

Even when pregnant.

And so we fret about the completely normal +/- "more than I'm used to" weight gain each week.

(What am I saying?? There's no - only + !!)

We fret about the tugging shirts and the bulging pants pockets.

We avoid turning sideways in front of a mirror.

We feel our self-image plummet.

What happened to the voluptuous, round days of the Renaissance woman?

The one with the pudgy thighs, generous triceps, double chin, bulging belly, Double D's and porcelain skin (my personal favorite)??

What happened to the beauty that signified fertility?

The modern magazine has done a huge disservice to us women and our pregnant psyches (and even to our un-pregnant psyches).

And while I'm completely disgusted by the denigration of it all,

I can't seem to divorce myself from the feelings of insecurity it evokes.

And so, I vent.

To you.

This is not a deep-sea fishing trip for complements.

This is not a pity party.

I am not, in any way, soliciting such comments.

Seriously, don't leave them.

This is Mama Pudget--a pregnant, pudgy, vertically challenged, hormonal woman--kvetching about the objectification and marginalization of women.

Nothing more,

Nothing less.

Carry on.

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