I'm really glad that the people whom I work with are by and large enjoyable people to be around. But it's going to be a long 4 months of tirelessly not original jokes. Oh look at her--eating two cookies since she's eating for two! Ha! I didn't see you there but then you turned sideways and whoa! Oy vey.
It was fun yesterday to get my checkup and have an unscheduled ultrasound. Without a monstrously full bladder this time, it kinda felt good, like a bit of tummy massage. A nice dark room, only me and the doctor, beautifully clear pictures of the little one made for about 5 minutes of happiness. Apparantly my doctor got a new 3-D ultrasound machine and wanted to try it out, so I got lucky and got to be the guinea pig. We have a little 1-lb. 2-oz. bundle of baby love at the moment. I used to think and kind of still do in a naive sort of way that how I eat now may or may not influence the dessert addictions of the little one in the future, but the way I've been gnoshing on all that I love unrepentently (i.e. several forms of chocolate and sugar), I apparantly don't care anymore. Not quite true, I do care, but I just feel all blubbery on the inside with the thought of not being able to relish in my indulgences. I don't know what kind of motivation I'll ever need to even try to give up my love of sweetness, but apparantly the impending possibility of an extra 60+ pounds doesn't even phase me.
I only have one sweatshirt left that I can still zip up. Even though you know that you're going to be gaining weight and it's a good thing to gain weight and you want to look all cute and round and preggie, it still goes against everything that society tells females we should be. I say goodbye to each piece of clothing one by one that I can't really fit into or use comfortably anymore. It's not like I shouldn't be able to wear this again, but it almost feels like putting away your former self permanently. Maybe that will be my motivation later on...maybe. (Should I note the fact that I'm eating another brownie...mmm and warm...while typing this??)
We have an incredible expanding bed. It's like the Weasley's magic car in the Harry Potter series that doesn't change size on the outside but has an unlimited amount of space on the inside. I remember, ah so fondly, the days of yore when I could sleep on my back and the bed didn't always seem big enough for both Ben and me. Now that I have to sleep on my side, which isn't at all as easy or comfortable as this typically-a-side-sleeper thought that it would be, we've found out that our bed can comfortably (ironically) accomodate not only Ben and me but 2 cats (suddenly they both want to cuddle all night, not just the little one even though she can be more compromising than her fuzzy counterpart who is twice her size) and a huge body pillow. Add in a comforter and a couple of additional blankets and it's veritably womb-like. Maybe that's why the little one was all scrunched up yesterday instead of stretched out...taking after her parentals.
Ben's been really super nice to me lately more often than not. I swear that the nice guy that I married got nicer. He swears that he's the same. I like it.
I really really like the fuzzy orange Weight Watchers mascot--the motivation guy. I also like his theme music.
I know know what kicking feels like. That's a warm fuzzy moment.
My memory is horribler than normal, which is why I just forgot what I was going to write. Sigh. I can understand other side effects. But, I don't understand this one.
"The only true happiness comes from squandering ourselves for a purpose." William Cowper (an homage to my Romantics class for this semester even though no one will get this but me)