The size also rises

This is day three where my waistband is cutting off my oxygen intake. It is casual Friday at work today, so I put my casual Friday work jeans on this morning – my conservative jeans that are appropriately high in the waist and not too tight – and there was no amount of deep knee bending that was going to stretch them into my new shape. Standing up, the jeans look fine unless you happen to catch a glimpse of what happens at the top of them. It’s a Mount Vesuvius of tummy. So, in 95 degree weather, I put on a sweater. Totally reasonable. I think Angelina Jolie rocked this getup during her pregnancy… in her worst nightmare. Anyway, after three days of this it is clear that I need to start shopping for my casual Friday mumu post haste.

I have a big announcement...

One thing I think is hard to do, for some reason, is tell people at work that I’m pregnant. Why do I feel that saying “I’m pregnant” is too much information, thank you very much? I’ve been on the receiving end of someone telling me and it feels fine, happy, and normal. But sending it out there has been awkward. Yesterday I told someone I really like and I must have spoken kind of softly because she said, “no, I’m good, thanks.” So I let it go. I also tried to get comfy with it by using the euphemisms like being in the family way, knocked up, with child, eating for two, and bun in the oven which has been just as embarrassing because those phrases only work if you live in the 1950’s or if you are reading them in a book. Because I compulsively google everything, I just found a list of joke euphemisms for being pregnant and the number one was “suing Trojan.” Perhaps an Andrew Dice Clay approach is the direction I need to point in, but the last two times I told someone today I made a gesture with my hands that showed a big belly which would indicate that I am headed in the direction of no words at all.