I’m a bit behind. Well quite a lot actually but I’m about to make amends!
At week 9 my baby was the size of a grape. Quite small.
But the same couldn’t have been said for my bum. It had become a lot bigger… in my opinion. It used to be a sticky-outy JLo number but from my perspective pregnancy had just expanded it to burger bum proportions. Wide and huge like Janet Jackson in the fat years.
The worse thing about all this lower-half weight gain is that my jeans were difficult to wear and I basically lived in jeans. My burgeoning bump was uncomfortable with anything tight around it and anything I owned with a zip had to be temporarily retired as I couldn’t do them up.
It probably was not as bad as I’m making it sound. At 9 weeks pregnancy, I was hating life and seeing myself from a very negative perspective. I had a bit of meltdown and sobbed that I felt fat and ugly. My highlights had half an inch of mousey brown roots and it was December so my pasty skin was hardly at it’s best. I’ve never been fat but I felt bloated and hideous.
Chuck was amazing! My darling husband gave me a cuddle and said I was more beautiful and womanly than ever. Naturally I presumed he was just trying to make me feel better but he succeeded all the same.
Still had constant nausea and extreme tiredness. Horrid.