I’ve only seen something like this once before… on Alien. When the thing bursts forth from Sigourney Weaver’s belly.
My daughter has developed enough strength in her little fists and feet to make tiny portions of my stomach jump from the outside. I’m told that in a few weeks I’ll be able to discern exactly what appendage she’s using to beat out her frustrations from the imprint. Eeek!
She’s like a mini Chun-Li. I’m fearful of her learning that Dragon Punch technique that Ken and Ryu use in Street Fighter. At present I’m assuming she’s employing Chun-Li’s Hyakuretsukyaku – the hundred lightning kicks. A lot of mother’s say their sproglet is a “footballer” but mine is definitely a ninja. Definitely.
As I think I mentioned. The kicking and somersaulting she indulges in is quite an amazing sensation but it also makes me feel a bit sick. Not sure why this is?
Part of the reason for this relatively late development of externally visible activity is because my own stomach muscles were quite well developed – despite year’s of neglect and binge drinking – from my days doing teenage gymnastics and dance and perhaps later the trapeze classes and sporadic surf and snowboard sessions.
You can clearly see the muscles in their new locations. They carefully hug the protruding bump and keep it all nicely compact.
I feel quite proud of the bump.
A casual observer in Sainsbury’s on Saturday commented that I was “carrying very compact”. People often feel like they should comment or chat to me now I’m pregnant. There’s something non-threatening about a pregnant woman I guess. People are nicer to you.
Except for the people on the Piccadilly line in the mornings. Those people are generally rubbish!