I was so excited for it to be fall. For a few reasons:
1. Reduction in leg-shaving requirements.
2. Reduction in toenail paint maintenance.
3. Long sleeves to cover up my serious development of grandma arm.
4. Jeans to cover these dimply egg cartons I call legs.
You know, many many good reasons for it to be fall.
But now it's 80 degrees and I'm walking around in cap sleeves that make me arms look like drumsticks and wearing peep toe shoes that show off my attractive calluses and hangnails and OH MY GOD I NEED TO COVER UP.
Not to mention my nervous habit of picking my finger skin until it bleeds when I am feeling stressed. So the only thing that has made it feel like fall is the fact that school is in session and that I am 21 weeks pregnant.
My stomach is really, really getting big. Last night during class, my professor decided that it would be a brilliant idea to make me move from my beautiful, cherry picked on the first day of class seat on the end of a row to a middle seat in the TEENYIST classroom in Ohio so as to promote diversity because I was sitting by too many white people, I think?
I mean, I am all about diversity. I would hump diversity's leg given the appropriate circumstance. Diversity is, you know, fantastic and all that shit.
But why, oh why, would you make a clearly pregnant person squeeze between rows? Honestly. Out of 25 people, he moved me and one other person. It could have been my remark about our pop quiz at the beginning of class that made me the target?
("Are you kidding me? We would have had to memorize all 30 pages of that article to be able to answer these questions!") I'm not sure.
The first problem is that I cannot bend over without a grunt. My uterus does not allow me to bend over without making difficult bowel movement sounds, even if I have been just asked to switch seats in front of TWENTY FIVE PEOPLE who can hear my grunting and can't decide if I am having a baby or if I just ate a really lot of Chipotle for lunch.
I'm not sure if you heard, but I'm bringing sexy back on a daily basis. That, and I am a flaming hot mess these days.
Secondly, I am beginning to resemble the Michelin Man, which is fine and everything except when you are trying to carry your bookbag, water, purse, and folder while squeezing your fat ass through two rows of seating in order to promote diversity in the classroom.
Then, it is not fine to look the the Michelin Man, it is just embarrassing.
On my way to my new, super duper diverse seat, I managed to whack someone in the head with my stomach, drop my pen, grunt as I sat down, then spill my notebook on the floor.
At the end of class, one of my neighbors for the evening asked, "So how soon is your baby going to come out?"
"Not soon enough, apparently," was all I could muster.