Today the Pullen Bear and I are 31 weeks. According to my weekly Baby Centre email, this means that I will be going to the toilet to pee more often (squashed bladder) and the little one is gaining weight, brain power and now using its bone marrow, instead of the liver to produce new red blood cells. It's all very impressive by the little one. As it gets stronger I seem to weaken, but I suppose that is the shape of things to come!
Actually, I'm not feeling as bad as last week. I think the low iron levels really got me and left my body tired and susceptible to other aches and pains. Today I have vowed to not let things get me down. Let's be honest here, yes the bump is getting bigger, but I'm a healthy old girl. I can handle a few extra pounds around my middle, and my back, well it's just going to have to lump it.
While my body (and mind) are resolved to stay stronger, my wardrobe is buckling at the seams. This morning I actually tried on every single one of my dresses in a desperate bid to not look like an enormous beach ball. I don't mind tight, and I don't mind short, but together, no, I'm just not going to subject the world to that any longer. Thankfully my lovely Vanessa Bruno dress that was hanging on the far end of my rail is long and loose but not completely shapeless and I actually feel fine, almost nice, but not quite.
I'm not going to buy anymore maternity bits (there was a long knitted jumper that I perhaps didn't declare on here), because frankly I'm now more interested in tops that will let me get my breasts out at a moment's notice. You see, if I'd said that even two years ago, I'd have been shot down as some kind of Chloe-From-X-Factor type of girl. It's amazing how pregnancy lets you talk about (and show randoms) every bit of your anatomy and nobody judges.
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