One thing that you probably won’t see around here are pictures of my belly. I probably also will not have maternity photos made. Not that I don’t want to memorialize this time, but to be honest… my belly, not so cute.
Actually, my belly is a bit scary. I have a ring of bruises that’s about 2 inches wide around my belly button. Which looks really bad. It doesn’t really hurt, but it looks terrible.
Also… While my belly is quite hard and I can plainly feel where Baby G lives, I have lost so much weight that I have a flap of loose skin hanging off of the bottom of my belly. The best part? It’s triangular. It looks really, really funky. Best part? It’s really soft, so the seam of my pants/shorts give it a camel toe appearance iffins I pull them up enough that the crotch of my pants isn’t between my knees. G is already talking about saving for a tummy tuck. I am mortified.
Because for real? I’m fat. I’m fat as hell. I was fat as hell before I got pregnant. The OB is estimating that I have actually lost 25-30 pounds of fat so far in this pregnancy (i.e. 7% to 8% of my pre-pregnancy weight). This is awesome, right? I mean who doesn’t want to lose weight rather than gain? One of the biggest things I was scared of was busting 400 pounds. One thing that never occurred to me? How my body would look AFTER.
I was certainly no model before (plus sized or otherwise). And, I am in no way saying that I don’t think aesthetic changes are worth it. Obviously, my appearance has not been my top concern for a long, long time. (One of the disadvantages of meeting your soul mate so young.) But, this skin flap is really bothering me. It’s vain and stupid. Maybe if I was getting laid on the regular I wouldn’t be so sensitive about it now (he’s afraid of poking the baby’s head and is convinced that he’s capable of doing that). But fact is, I am sensitive about it and I feel really shallow and ridiculous for it.