And The Triple Chin Award Goes To…

I have always enjoyed being…err…petite-ish (heavy on the “ish”). Of course, being short comes with its perks. For starters, I see nothing but back of heads at concerts. Usually this is much more entertaining than the actual concert for the following reasons:
1. Most people DON’T pay attention to their backside (eg, a skirt tucked into undies or supremely obvious TGIF hair).
2. Most people think they have rhythm, but don’t.
3. White girls who think they can shake-a-booty actually look like their having a mid-striptease seizure.
4. The fat guy with the ponytail will inevitably throw up the devil horns…it doesn’t matter where. I’m serious. It’s straight out of the Simpsons.
Of course there’s a downside to being vertically challenged. I know who dealt it. Trust me. If you fail to wear deodorant, I’ll probably pick up on that pretty quick too. I can’t reach the top shelves at grocery stores. I can’t drive most cars, but I can usually reach the pedals in most trucks (WTF!). And, the worst thing about being short…1 pound looks like 10.

Now I realize that pregnancy goes hand-in-hand with weight gain. I have feared being as wide as I am tall (I can only grow out and there’s not a lot of vertical, think about it). I have even had nightmares of becoming Violet Beauregarde (yes, I had to look it up…she’s the gum chewing girl in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory). Fears aside, I have been confident, until recently, that I would have moderate weight gain and at least be able to stay at a decent level of fitness throughout my pregnancy. Despite my healthy cravings for fruit (and my weak attempts at staying active) I have blossomed. Yes, my blooming bottom, baby bump, et al are proving that my nightmare may in fact come true.

In the spirit of entertainment, I have chosen a blue swimming suit this year and have been searching for sunscreen with a blue tint. If I already look the part, I might as well have some fun with it. We’ll see if I turn heads at the beach.



While I did imagine becoming the blueberry girl from that 70’s movie, I was in no way prepared for:
1. Developing a prominent second chin.
2. Observing (within a short time) said second chin devour the first chin.
3. Observing (yet again) the second/first chin, consume the neck region. By the time I give birth I’ll merely be a belly with a head on top.
4. Feeling (and looking) like a flailing turtle with a shell on backward. I often get this image while I’m trying to get out of bed. My night goes something like this. I just peed. I have my Tums next to the bed. I’ve got the pillows all arranged. I’m good to go. Huughghgh! (that’s me trying to climb into our bed. It’s made for giants.) Once I’m in, I flop around like a fish trying to position myself comfortably. One pillow for the head. One behind my back, not too high, not too low (this takes practice). One between my knees. Shhhiiittt! I have to pee again! I get up and repeat. Once I’m settled. I will inevitably swear again because a) I have sciatic pain and need to roll over, b) I have heartburn and have to climb halfway out of bed to get a Tums, or c) I have to pee again.

Well, I think that’s enough for now. To be continued…