The one thing that really appeals to me about pregnancy, though, is I can stop trying to explain away my poochy, non-pregnant stomach.
Now 3 months postpartum, I’ve packed away my maternity pants (more to appease my ego than because they truly weren’t needed any more) and am waiting for the dreaded first time a stranger asks me, “when is your baby due?”.
That question follows me around. Worse still, people tend to argue with me when I tell them I’m not pregnant.
Last spring my “baby” was almost 4 years old and a family friend was convinced I was having the longest pregnancy ever. No matter how many times I promised her I wasn’t pregnant she kept giving my non-baby belly sideways glances and throwing knowing little smiles my way.
That doesn’t do much for the ego.
I mentally took note that I really needed to get serious about my exercise routine.
When we went back to visit with my now 3 month old daughter she was thrilled to declare, “I knew you were pregnant!”
I didn’t have the guts to remind her that we’d moved away nearly 18 months before.
After 5 babies, I’m under no illusions that I’m bikini-ready. At this point I’d settle for buying a pair of pants in a size that isn’t quite so high up in the double digits and getting my wedding ring to fit again.
Have you ever been asked when your baby is due when you weren’t pregnant?