Welcome to my new blog, and first post as a mom-to-be. As you probably know, Internet, I used to blog under the moniker Last Girl Standing, because I firmly believed I was pretty much the last single girl standing, or swimming as it were in a sea of Happily Marrieds. And now, as I cautiously enter momville at age 35, I feel the need to chronicle my journey into the daunting world of thankles, heartburn and offensively large breasts that are starting to leak colostrom. Ahh, the joys of being pregnant. But I know this time I’m not alone–there are a lot of you out there who share my appetite for French fries and ice cream, who’re happiest at home reading fiction by Emily Giffin, measuring for nursery furniture and uploading pics upon pics of your growing belly to Facebook in albums titled “ME AT WEEK 20.”
Or maybe that’s just me, and my insatiable narcissism.
The truth is, I’ve never looked or felt better. My skin is glowing—that probably has more to do with the last 6 months of alcohol detox than anything else—and even my wardrobe is looking good. Is it strange that I have more fun shopping now that I’m pregnant? Hear me out: A) A big belly means everything else looks smaller, including my ass, B) Maternity clothes have gotten very cute and fashion-forward, albeit also very expensive. But hey, I’m pregnant, so if it looks good on me I don’t question it, and C) If you can manage to look good while pregnant, your score is double on the hot scale (OK, I just made that up).
At 25 weeks and still in my second trimester, I don’t have much to complain about. Yet.