Tuesday, February 03, 2009

Please, Not The Frills. I mean it! NO Frills!

I don't know if my googlefu is broken or if it's because I'm now behind two eight balls in a row--fat and OMG pregnant!--but I'm having the most ridiculous time finding a swimsuit. Well, if I'm to be completely honest, I can find swimsuits; tankinis, bikinis, frilly froo froo suits ruffled up the wazoo and of course the skirts with yards of material in them. A formfitting functional suit suitable for lap swimming? Good luck! Even the suits for the slimmer mums tend to have ruffles and frills and weird things. Just what a pregnant body needs, a skirt to make your hips and pregnant bum look even larger and ruffles to make your waist even wider!

{rolls eyes}

And the pregnant bum? It's a sight to behold. I got the giggles the other day when I looked in the mirror. I said to Alaskaboy, "Honestly? What's the point of them!" Just below my usual love handles, there's a second set growing! What am I, a two-humped camel? LOL He reckons it's either a more comfy saddle for Kiddlywink once s/he's born or it's counterbalance for my belly.

Surprisingly, with my new lumps and bumps, extra squishy bits and ginormous* boobs my weight hasn't changed much. I lost five pounds over the first 8 weeks or so and then gained them again over the next 8 weeks. But my body shape? Ye gods that's changed. I didn't realise just how much until I squeeeezed into my swimsuit on Saturday. I swear I needed a shoe horn to get me into it. Not only does it feel almost as firm as a pair of spanx around my belly, but in addition to killer front cleavage like you'd get from wearing a corset I also spill out into armpit cleavage! Huge change from when I last wore the suit a month ago.

Hmmm, I wonder if the extra love handles are floaties to help prevent me from rolling over completely while I wallow my way along the lanes? And a wallow it is, believe you me. A kind of bastardised dog crawl is all I can manage now. Frog crawl, maybe? Freestyle kicks combined with breaststroke arms. Umm.. and I must admit, when I first got into the pool and the water took my weight--and again when I leaned forward, lifting me feet off the ground allowing my legs to trail behind me as I used only breaststroke arms to slowly make my way down my initial lap--I SOUNDED like a hippo in a wallow. I didn't MEAN for those sounds to come out of my mouth. But the sheer bliss and pain relief I felt made me make noises one would normally associate with other earthier pursuits. Luckily, I spent a lot of that lap with my head under the water...and I was swimming away from the dad and his two young boys in the lane next to me.

Speaking of outlandish noises, my digestive system has been speaking whale and dolphinese when I make the mistake of eating more than one carb, one protein and one veg at a meal. Veggies are not my friends at the moment, especially if there's a whole parade going down my gullet at once. It's SO weird. Some examples: Fried chicken, mashed taters and roasted pumpkin = Woohoo. Chicken, cabbage and rice stir fry = awesome. Teriyaki beef, rice, gherkins and canned peaches = fine. Apple and peanut butter sandwich = num! Cheese and Vegemite sandwich and some baby carrots = good. Cereal with milk and banana = noice! Gyoza soup = great. BUT! Add one or more other veggie to those meals? Forget it. Lettuce, spinach, and red peppers (even as the lone veg in the meal) = enemies numbers one, two and three. (Let's just say they'd put Michael Schumacher to shame around those turns and bends.)

I swear at the moment I'm a no frills kind of girl. The simpler my meals the better. Let's not even discuss my love affair with chocolate milk or my regular tete-a-tetes with plastic cheese slices. And let's definitely ignore my sudden to-remain-unrequited lust for SpaghettiO's. (C'mon, a girl's gotta have SOME standards!)

Standards. Sometimes that could be considered a four letter word I'm sure. It's my standards that are making me draw the line at buying any of those (perfectly lovely, I'm sure) ladylike frilly swim suits. I just can't do it. I'm satisfying my inner girly-girl with the lovely maternity clothes I've had to buy recently. Among other things they include feminine prints, empire waists to show off my acres of cleavage, and even ribbons on some of the clothes. I have managed to draw the line at pink though! But, dare I say it? I think...yes, I do believe, except for the fact it'd make me look like one of those toilet roll holder doily dolls, I'd even buy some ruffled or flouncy peasant skirts. Sheesh. Talk about frill overload or what? LOL

Something else that's on overload is my nesting instinct, but that's a matter for another post. I'm off to enjoy some of the home made bread and butter pudding I made last night, and to laugh at my husband shooting Raving Rabbids with toilet plungers.

EDIT: Oh, popping back in to say, the airbed? HEAVEN! If bigamy were legal, I reckon I'd marry it tomorrow. My hips haven't felt the urge to vacate their premises recently. What little ache is left, I can deal with it. Yeehaw!

* G-normous literally. On some days recently, my F cup runneth over by bed time. I bought a G cup bra, but am afraid to take it out of the padded mailbag. I'm betting I could wear one cup as a beanie/toque/knit cap!

1 Nibbles:

ShelbyReed said...


Someone told me Jenny McCarthy wrote a book about her pregnancy experience, but I didn't read it. I imagine it would raise the hairs on your head!

Hang in there, Kada!