This is my least favorite time of gestating. There are the varicose veins, the aching back, the heartburn, the swelling and the general malaise of discomfort.
Sex is an embarrassment. Exhaustion is permanent. And all of it is going to get worse before it gets better.
At this point attempts at self beautification are as productive as polishing a turd. My best efforts produce little results. An hour of primping and I look like a manatee wearing lipstick and a wig.
Even my usually sensitive husband can't bring himself to lie to make me feel better. His attempts to mollify my insecurities seem like thinly veiled insults of their own.
Everyone looks different when they're pregnant.
Don't worry its only temporary.
Hon, really. What can you expect?
I expect a little dignity. Now where'd I put my Tucks.
CC
