What? No Wednesday Advice Smackdown?
Well, yeah, no. First of all, it's clear that the vast majority of you have no interest in seeking advice from Amalah v.2.0, Babymaking Edition, as the question queue is quite sparse.
Second of all, you are very, very wise.
You should not be coming to me with your hair and makeup and fashion queries right now, because I no longer feel superiorly gorgeous and fashionable. In fact, I'm an absolute disaster.
People, my underwear doesn't fit.
I've lost buttons on about four pairs of work pants already, but dagnabbit, I'm still wearing them. That's what that little extra hook is for, right? And safety pins? Plus, it's one less thing to do in the bathroom when I'm dashingohmygodIhavetopeepeepeethisinstant.
Mornings are no longer about me gazing at my many wardrobe options and putting together something fun -- they're about me justifying that no one at work will notice if I wear those stretchy black pants for the third time this week, and do I have any stretchy cotton underwear left that won't show panty lines too badly? No? Bah. Oh well. I'm sure as hell not going to attempt one of those delicate lacy thongs again -- the imprints of the fabric were visible on my skin for two days straight last week.
(To add insult to injury, my bras still fit.)
Then I go downstairs and convince myself that I don't need to wear foundation because I have lovely glowing pregnant skin. Also, I'm too lazy. Also, I thought pregnancy was supposed to make my hair all Breck Girl Fantastic? Why is my hair looking so...bad? Eh. Clip it up, pin it back, good enough.
Why don't I care? Why am I showing up for work with no concealer under my eyes and Saltine crumbs down my shirt? Why is my stomach pooching out at only seven weeks along? What kind of monstrous spawnbaby am I incubating?
Yesterday, I had my first real dry-heave-near-puke experience, and I didn't even move my purse out of the way.
Who is this slobbish nightmare? Can granny panties and Mom Jeans be far behind?
In other news, I actually threw up this morning. Several times. And while I was mostly thinking that I wasn't sure I have ever felt so miserable, the Crazy Post-Infertility Pregnant Lady part of me was all, "YAY!"
I AM INSANE. SEND HELP.