14kg’s – that’s how much this pregnancy has blessed me with. That’s quite a nice way of saying it hey? But it’s true…a whole fourteeeeeeen! And I’m not done yet! I thought that I’d just get that off my chest to begin with and I must say that I feel lighter already. NOT!
Most people say “No way, where did it all go? I can’t see it”. I luff these people. LUFF!
So I’ve done a complete analysis of the situation and besides water, extra blood and extra tissue, there is most certainly extra fat tissue accounting for the extra weight. The storage cells seemed to have gathered en masse at the top of my thighs resulting in the total loss of my ITG (inner thigh gap).
A little also went to the boobs, but that growth seems to have stagnated a little. And then there is the face – I feel like I have been given an overdose of Botox from my forehead to my chin. Great if it were just my lips and brow area but who…who….who would want to have their nose infused with botulinum? Not me. You don’t have a choice in pregnancy though – you just have to suck it up and embrace the swelling and tell yourself “this too shall pass, this too shall pass, this too shall pass”.
However facetious I may sound, being pregnant is wonderful, not only do you get to carry a little life inside you, you also get to stick your tummy out when you’ve eaten one too many pancakes and people are none the wiser – they just think you’re “glowing”.
And even with an extra 14kg’s, it’s hard to believe that so many people tell you how cute your tummy is!
But the one remark that I haven’t heard in ages and the one that was usually reserved for aunties and long lost uncles with false teeth is “but my goodness you’ve grown”! Except only now the reference is to growth along the x axis and not the y axis.
So all in all, the extra weight is totally out of my control…I just baked these cupcakes….and photographed them….
I solemnly swear that I in no way, devoured at least 3 of each delicious….
…..wicked, creamy, exhaustingly tasty flavour. I practice extreme self-control, like most pregnant women.
I celebrated my 29th Birthday and had a baby shower all in one week. Sjoe, I was so spoilt I can’t even begin to explain. I was spoilt with flowers, quirky jewellery and girly stuff on my birthday and I learnt a plethora of new terminology at the baby shower and received so many special gifts. Periwinkle is a lucky little periwinkle!
Our dinner club pic was published in the Essentials magazine, courtesy of my friend Kelly. There’s something about having your pic in a magazine that makes you feel the need to purchase the magazine don’t you find? Sucker.
And then there is the “my husband lost his finger story”! Yes, in a pure act of Darwinian genius, my man managed to cut off the tip of his finger in the brake rotor of his bicycle. I’m told that this is a common occurrence amongst men – there’s a whole community out there with fully or partially cut off fingers. Invitation by clumsiness only. Converse to that, there is a community out there that wants to know “What happened to your finger exactly?”. From the Woolworths checkout cashier to 4 year old whipper snappers to grannies with purple curls, everyone wants the story.
It’s quite simple: The bike was upside down, he got distracted, put his hand in the spokes to slow the wheel down where and accidentally got one digit caught in the rotor. A little flying saucer of flesh crashed to the ground, Jem picked it up, put it back on and began riding out the valley.
I met him at Steve’s rooms – Steve is a good friend of ours who happens to be a doctor. He stitched the poor little piece of flesh back on and it didn’t look too bad but it didn’t look great either.
Anyway, throughout the week it got worse, turning darker shades of grey until it was completely black.
Eventually he went to see a plastic surgeon who pronounced the tip of the finger dead. “We’ll need to do a skin graft and might need to cut off a bit of the bone”. I was absolutely devastated at the thought of my man losing flesh and bone from his finger, never mind what was going through his mind!
I mean what does one do when this happens? Do we have a little funeral for the lost tissue? Do we bury it in the garden and say our goodbyes? Do we donate it to a worm farm? Do worms eat dead finger? Is dead finger yummy? All these legitimate concerns started going through my mind.
It was gruesome but the graft had to be. When I first saw this picture, I thought a.) grose and b.) Aaaaah how sweet that he kept his wedding band on…until I realised that it was the wrong hand and the “rings” were actually clamps.
Since then my man has made a wonderful recovery, the stitches are out, the tip of the finger is round and of course, its the rosy colour it should be. I must mention that during the healing process, my man felt extremely proud to have mastered the art of left-hand butt wiping. Your thought for the day..
Best of all though, none of the bone was sacrificed and Jem’s finger gets to live happily ever after!
Last update: Our little periwinkle is due to arrive in 4 weeks. Wooo heee wooo heee wooo heee (that’s me practising my breathing!)