Posted by: Kate | January 4, 2010

Testosterone Poisoning

I mean to post more often, I really do.  But then somehow days slip by, all busy and stuff, and suddenly, hey, look at that, it’s been almost a week.  I’m blaming it on testosterone poisoning; that sperm-meets-egg thing has resulted not only in an ever-growing midsection, but also in a vague fatigue and outright forgetfulness.

And, when I say ever-growing, I mean it:


The first photo was taken on 12/21… the other, 10 days later. I swear I can actually hear my belly expanding sometimes, and I’m starting to wonder if I’ll be able to fit into my maternity jeans for another two months. The pair I wore this morning actually rolled right down off my belly as I was walking up the stairs earlier; could I be any more awesome?

Honestly, though, I love this.  I hear women talk about their body image during pregnancy, about how they feel fat and swollen and unattractive, and my heart aches for them.  Because, really, I love being pregnant.  I love how my body looks, and I love what it’s doing.  I don’t have any real body image issues when not pregnant; I try to keep myself within a certain size range, and if I stray too far from that then I alter my diet and move a little more until I’m where I want to be again.  I’ve learned how to dress for my figure, and so far no one has recoiled in horror at my appearance, so I feel fine with it.  My husband finds me attractive, even when he probably shouldn’t, and that’s good enough for me.

But when I’m pregnant, I feel good.  I feel right, somehow, like this is what I’m supposed to be doing.  Strangers smile at me, now that I’m big enough to be unequivocally pregnant instead of “maybe she just had one too many cheeseburgers.”  (And, so far, the only people that have actually crossed the look-touch barrier have been friends or family… my general rule is, if I know you well enough to call you by name and perhaps someday be invited to your home, then you can touch my belly, no problem.  But if I don’t know you, I consider a belly-rub to be unpleasant and intrusive, and I will either back away or try to touch your belly, in return.)

And I feel so, so honored and – a word I rarely use – blessed, because I know pregnancy is not a gift that everyone receives.  For no good reason, many of the people that I think are most deserving of such an experience simply don’t get it.  There’s a fundamental unfairness to the arbitrary nature of it all… those who have absolutely no business having babies do so at an alarming rate, while those who would be (and, in many cases, are) just can’t.

When pregnant, I do feel attractive, but in the more general, unisex, others-are-drawn sense.  Male or female, people just like to see pregnant women.  I don’t feel sexy, or come-hither… indeed, I’m reaching a point where those sorts of carnal acts are going to require a crane and flying buttress.  I think this is the real issue, for a lot of women; they equate attractiveness with sexual allure, and so as they lose sight of their feet and have to lean backward to compensate for their girth, they lose that sense of appeal.

So, anyway, I’m still here, and I have plenty to say… I just have to remember to actually sit down and say it once in a while.



  1. See? your attitude about the pregnancy body is the one I had hoped to have. Sigh. I’m glad you can enjoy it. I’m hoping I will too, the second time around. Right now it’s still too jarring and new.

  2. You had me at flying buttress…

  3. You ARE awesome!

  4. You really have grown in those 10 days. Wow! Somebody in there is growing and expanding at high speed.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s


%d bloggers like this: