Cry for me, argentina.

Week 29 is definitely the low-water mark of my pregnancy. Not only have I gone over the weight gain chart as defined by the fried food haters at Pregnancy Weekly, but I also “strained” my back and came down with a cold. When I say strain, I mean an intense sharp pain that goes across my whole back and prevents me from driving or putting my pants on. And when I say cold, I mean just a regular average cold, but the first one I’ve had in my adult life that I can’t take down with a dose of Nyquil. The result is that I am feeling very, very sorry for myself. So sorry for myself, in fact, that I am shamelessly campaigning for sympathy. I have found that carrying around a box of tissues gets the ball rolling nicely by extracting the obligatory question, “do you have a cold?” I am also naturally limping a little bit, but there is no reason to walk around with my hand on my back other than to indicate I’m wide open and ready to receive pity. It is working so well that I think I may be featured in the next Oxfam campaign.