When I first spied those two pink lines on the pregnancy test, the next nine months of my belly in various forms of growth flashed before my eyes. Or perhaps those flashes came from hitting my head on the toilet when I’d passed out from severe nausea. (Oh, how I miss the first trimester.) Regardless, no amount of daydreaming or nausea-induced peeks into the future could have prepared me for the reality of this not-so-little development:
It’s my 30-Week Milestone! Also known as The Tipping Point. Seriously, with my center of gravity officially missing in action (I swear a kitchen tile jumped up and tripped me this morning), college kids sure could have a lot of fun sneaking up on me and tipping me over. Let’s grab a case of MGD and go Candy Tipping tonight, guys!
Of course, it would be all fun and games until I HUNTED THEM DOWN AND SAT ON THEM. Once I managed to get back on my feet. The next day.
While I keep an eye out the window for USC students bearing cattle prods and double-bolt my doors, I just have to say pregnancy has agreed with me in a way I never expected. I’ve become one of those happy, glowy, knocked-up chicks you want to smack on the head. The odds of this happening were previously thought to be even worse than Tom Cruise’s chances of getting drafted by the NBA. Just ask my mother:
ME: I can’t believe how much I’m enjoying being pregnant.
CANDY’S MOM: I can’t believe it either. At all.
ME: I hear Tom Cruise is going to play center for the Lakers next year
CANDY’S MOM: Really?! Well, I guess that’s not so crazy.
Hey now. Who WOULDN’T love having a belly that could double as a ball in Tom’s first NBA game?