Everybody DancePosted: 05/23/2013
I’m 23 weeks this week, which, according to those emails, means that Ziggy can feel me dance. This is the best thing EVER.
He/she/it is also adapting to sounds, so I’m hoping h/s/it will be used to my barky dog and table-drumming husband by the time h/s/it pops out. I’m looking for a sleeper, people.
Ziggy is currently getting used to my MIL’s dog, because I’m in Florida for the week, kicking off the musical my hus and I wrote. This means I’ve been showing off the bump to old friends and relatives.
A lot of them are not impressed.
I mean, come on, people, it’s not like anyone else has ever done this before.
For me, this poochy, kicky stomach is fascinating. For someone with body image issues, this is a little surprising, but I realize that with time I’ve become pretty okay with my inadequacies if there’s nothing I can do about them. My arms are fat. They will always be fat. At some point, I accepted that and realized there was no reason to be hot all of the time because of it. Now, my stomach is big because there’s a fetus inside of it. I would say that’s the best excuse I’ll ever have. Also the best excuse I’ll ever have to eat two desserts and finish my husband’s meals.
So, bring on the exclamations, the touching, the whatever. I’m good with it. I am DOING THIS THING. And sure, everyone in the world has either been there or been very close to someone who has, but this is the first time for this lady. I’m not saying everyone must talk to me about Ziggy all of the time, I just don’t want anyone to think that they can’t or shouldn’t. I know that’s the way some people are when they’re pregnant, but I’m not one of those people. I am someone who is terrible at small talk and I finally have something to talk about that is not my dog. So, let’s talk.