It might be all the french fries and cookies I've been eating lately or it might be metabolic changes caused by the pregnancy, but for some reason, it would appear that I am carrying the baby in either my upper arms or my ass. I can assure you, after the eight-ish ultrasounds that I've had this time around, that the baby is front and center, right where she should be. Which does not explain what is going on with my upper arms when I am grating cheese (for example).
So today I thought I would try to get a workout in. After spending an undue amount of time cramming myself into my improvised maternity lap-suit--a delightful combination of bikini bottoms, a speedo top, and a men's rashguard top--I managed three laps before my hip and pelvis pain forced me out of the water.
While I washed my hair in the gym shower, a process that took longer than my entire workout, I wondered with dismay how in the world I was going to get through the next fourteen weeks hobbling around like a geriatric penguin. And then I remembered that my doctor had said a maternity support belt might help. And that they sell such belts at a little store across the street from one of my favorite places to have lunch. Suddenly the laundry I had planned to do during the rest of preschool time did not seem as urgent.
So I drove downtown to the little store and let a lady take me into the dressing room and show me the way around a maternity support belt. It was super awkward but I was grateful for the help. There were many pieces, each one sexier than the last, what with all the medical-grade nude-colored velcro and elastic.
But once everything was in place, she pulled my shirt discreetly down around the device and suggested I take a walk around the store to see how I liked it.
And I practically re-enacted Gene Kelly's dance routine from Singing in the Rain. Had there been a lamppost it really might have happened.
It felt GREAT. Instead of feeling a painful stabby BOOM BOOM BOOM impact on my pelvis with every step I felt a much more manageable lingering dull pain. It didn't feel like everything was trying to shake itself loose as I walked! This was great news. We tried a few more models to figure out which was best and then I plunked down my credit card. I had to waddle back to my car, but I put the belt back on once I got there. Out in the parking lot. Klassy. Also worth it.
After that I had a club sandwich and some iced tea out in the sunshine all by myself while exchanging amusing texts with a friend.
Me: "OMG you should see this contraption I had to buy. It's a GIRDLE. Feels so good I could cry. I freaking love my girdle."
Friend: "I am at H&M. I do not belong here. 30 minutes for one $6 tank top and the absolute destruction of my self-image."
Me: "Holy geez, STEP AWAY FROM THE HIPSTERS."
Friend: "Who wears this stuff anyway? So is it like a support belt?"
Me: "Hairdressers, mostly. And yes. I need additional support. Like an aging concrete bridge."
Friend: "You're way funnier than an aging concrete bridge."
Then after my lunch, I had extra time! And I could WALK COMFORTABLY. So I went to the GAP in the same shopping center. Where I found a cute, summer weight infinity scarf for 50% off! I also scored a copy of Gone Girl at a used book store for more than sixty percent off the list price. WALKING IS AMAZING!!!!
So then I stood up for an hour on the playground, rested during the kids' two afternoon shows, and then got all wild and crazy and made stuffed shells for dinner, which I think was overdoing it because now I'm in my bed at eight PM letting Ryan bring me cookies and glasses of water while he straightens the downstairs and washes clothes. I am soaking it up now because he will be out of town later this week and I'll have to put the kids to bed alone AND get my own cookies. Thankfully I have mah girdle to get me through.