I painted my toenails yesterday. And started to realize how quickly the little luxuries are going to be disappearing. Not because of avoiding anything chemically controversial—I already had a bottle of dibutyl-phthalate-free Red Hot. But because it is getting rather hard to reach my toes.
Awkwardly reaching my propped up foot over a belly that's only beginning its long journey outward—I had toes that looked like they'd been painted by a five-year-old. Or maybe a five-year-old would do a better job. And that was even after taking polish remover to the red smudges on my skin. But it's a little hard to keep your hand steady when it's fully extended.
I told my husband he may have to paint my toenails for me next time. His response? Why? Soon you won't be able to see your toes anyway. He asked later that day: You can't even see your belt buckle anymore, can you? Thanks honey, I love you too.
Since it's flip-flop weather, I've been sliding on shoes without a thought—but come October, I may miss shoes that you actually have to use your hands to put on. I have to sit down to put on my tennis shoes to work out in the morning. Today, I decided it's getting too uncomfortable to do the “If your belly is not too big yet…” option on some of those prenatal stretches.
Some days, I feel huge. Other days, I feel like I should be bigger for how far along I am. Then my cat tries to cozy up directly on my stomach like at least he hasn't noticed the extra padding there (or maybe he thinks all that extra padding is there for snuggling purposes) and in the pain and cat rearranging that ensues, I'm back to feeling huge again. Then someone who knows that I'm pregnant will comment about my belly being not so big yet. And then I'll wish I was past that point where I'm certain strangers are thinking Is she pregnant or is she fat? Then someone who didn't know will point out my rounded tummy.
My innie is slowly becoming an outie, I notice it every day as I rub cocoa butter on in hopes of preventing any permanent damage. And with the amount of discomfort in my hips lately, I wonder if they are getting bigger too and I just haven't noticed yet.
But most of the time, I feel pretty good about that extra baby weight in my middle (after all, losing five pounds at the hands of morning sickness was not so fun). I've always thought baby bumps were cute—I feel the same about mine, I just didn't realize how awkward they were to work around. Oh well, next time if I paint my toes myself and mess them up pretty bad, I'll just tell people my husband (who has probably never touched a bottle a nail polish in his life) was nice enough to do them for me. Or maybe I should just call a friend.