Good god my boobs are getting huge! I’m talking Punkie Brewster getting reduction surgery huge. Who knew they could be so unwieldy and annoying?! All this before I even have the baby and get even bigger….lovely.
Bra shopping is super depressing when you’re in the DD category. Everything is ugly and no bras come with straps less than an inch thick. Ugh. It’s like wearing a thick tank top under your clothes. So far, this is one of my biggest pet peeves of being pregnant. With Charlotte, I didn’t have this much….volume…to begin with. Now, I’m longingly watching Abram do his workouts and actually chomping at the bit to have my postpartum time done so I can get back down to a reasonable weight and non-freakishly enormous boobs.
In other, unselfish and self-centered news, the baby is doing well. I went to another check-up and everything looked good. The doctor walked in (an OB in the practice I hadn’t seen before) and the first thing she said was “you’re daughter was how big?” and I told her “9lbs 10oz” and she blanched and said she thought it was a typo on my chart at first. Then she told me that second babies are usually bigger and that if this little dude tops out past 11lbs she’ll have to do a c-section. Um..yeah..I would hope so. I’m not pushing that out. Seriously? We have to make it 11lbs? I’d be fine with say, 10-10.5. Really. My lady parts cannot take another ravaging by a giant baby.