I'm Pregnant?

34 weeks (6 to go!)

Today, I realized that I am pregnant. Yes, I know I have been pregnant for the last eight months, but I just became aware that I am PREGNANT! I can't walk any faster than a 9 month old learning to walk, waddling around clumsily, tripping over their own feet or nothing at all. My stomach is gargantuan and stretched and I can't comprehend how its suppose to get any bigger as it feels like a brand new leather couch, with no wrinkles, just smooth and clenched, or like a balloon that someone keeps rubbing on and you scrunch up your shoulders in anticipation because you know that its going to pop with all that pressure. My hair is now lax and lackluster, once lustrous and shiny, it has been enveloped by a cocoon of frizz that reach out like branches or pygmy antennas out toward the skies. I have so many bags under my eyes, that my bags have purses and those purses have wallets. My legs throb and feel like feeble tree trunks after a hurricane and at night they become more painful than hearing about my co-worker's stomach problems. My hot flashes so overpowering that I want to pry off my clothes and vault into the lake, I only sleep for 20 mins at a time like a paranoid cat waiting for the dog to attack and my feet and ankles swell up to the size of Don King's hairdo. Mind you. I am not complaining. It's just that, as I get closer to my due date, my body is changing more than my mood swings and I have lost all control. I am not used to slowing down. I can't even jog, do the jive or breakdance anymore. I walk so slow that pigeons land on me to take a rest. I try not to waddle because from behind, I look like I didn't make it to the bathroom in time and I had an "accident" in my pants. I hear so many more conversations too. There were these two young guys, drinking beer at 1 in the afternoon and as I shuffled on by, a young woman in her 20s zoomed past me. "Did you see the rack on that chick?" the one with the dirty blond hair asked (and it was dirty as in dirt and lint and an ant farm living in there not as in sexy, dirty blond hair like Robert Redford). "I'd like a feel of her rad-a-tats" I looked at both of them, my thin eyebrows raised high in question saying, "Rad-a-tats? Is that a new sour candy or a Nickelodeon cartoon?" Then, these two business men walked my way. Both in expensive suits, shoes shiner than a teenage boy's forehead, dusky sunglasses that made me question where they left their BMW motorcycles. Their serious striped ties secured around their necks, they seemed serious in conversation. Talking about the stock market perhaps, the stimulus plan, that all-important client. As they passed me, one said, "I have to take a leak," Ah, insightful.