Today I am 28 weeks, which means that I'm officially in the third trimester. So far I think I've been a little bit of a rock star of a knocked-up gal (excepting, of course, The Great Meltdown of December 30-31, 2011). I've been exercising and eating better than I did before and not been the incarnate of Satan that Matt and I both feared that I would become in this condition. Plus, I can still totally touch my palms to the ground from a standing position, so I'm proud of that.
And tell me that these aren't just the cutest things you ever did see. (Matt says I'm not allowed to try to put one on Mitch. I say I wouldn't do that, duh, because there's no spot for a tail. Plus, Mitch is housebroken. Of course, it would be pretty cute. Get me the scissors!)
I love everything in this picture.
There's so much to be excited about (meeting the boy, decorating a nursery), and so much to be annoyed by (seriously, strangers and students, do not touch me) or afraid of (for real though, I have to push what out of where?), and so much to be fascinated by (the boy can see light now--let the flashlight games commence!). And after I rock the socks off of my glucose test on Monday, I'm going to go on an all cookies and cake and ice cream diet, which should definitely do its part to keep the baby (and me) from getting too gargantuan. I'm basically a nutritionist.
Oh, and on a related note, people are suddenly all interested in how fat I am, so here's a picture that I took in a mirror.
Also, why is it so funny to do this?
Random person [who is probably about to try to touch me]: Oh, I didn't know you were pregnant! When are you due?
Me: I'm not pregnant. What makes you say that?
So funny I can't stand it.