**Warning – girly talk ahead**
There must be something in the air lately, because I can not count on all of my fingers and toes, how many times I have been asked “are you pregnant?” in the last few weeks. Or maybe I just scream – glowing, maternal, spawn producing lady.
It all started a few weeks ago when we found out that yet another employee at our agency was expecting. Ever since I started here, there has been a never ending list of pregomatic women. So much so that I’m starting to think that there is a waiting list going around. You know…so that when one gets popped out another gets picked from the top of the list to be the next in line for expecting. It would be quite impossible for us to not, at any given time have at least 4 expecting mommies. Maybe I should look into this, it could be a conspiracy…I can just see the headlines now Pregnancy Hormones Responsible for Small Agency Success. Now wouldn’t that be fabulous.
I think someone added my name to the list without telling me – because I appear to be the next eligible girl. So per everyone at my office, I am next, whether I know it or not.
On top of the pregnancy cult at work, I have to admit, my body has been playing tricks on me (that are not in my non-pregnant favour) such as…
1) My ever growing (against my will) breasts.
I’ve always been a small chested girl. An A cup was pushing it for most of my high school/college years. Slowly I filled that sucker out, but never had enough to go into a B. Yah…well in the last few months they’ve been growing out of control. They fill my new B cup bras, and if I can’t put a stop to this hysteria soon, I might need to go shopping again. It’s so aggravating when you’re someone who was perfectly happy with being small. I don’t want to feel their “heaviness” or have to worry about my new found cleavage in anything that goes below the neck. I don’t want to have to think about finding shirts that are even longer, because quite honestly, my torso is long enough without adding another inch of boobage.
So, considering that growing mammaries are a quick sign of impending motherhood, of course it is to be expected that it would beg the pregnancy questions. Alas, no, I am not pregnant, just sporting some new software…hehe.
If this continues, expect a post asking for advice on breast reductions…
2) I’m craving meat
I don’t talk about this a lot in everyday conversation, but we don’t usually eat meat. Not because we’re desparate to save the animals, or trying to make a stand against bad farming practices (although we’re getting to that point)…just because we don’t like it. I hate preparing raw meat, and the taste doesn’t usually tickle my fancy (or my husbands for that matter). Once or twice a week though we’ll be meat eaters – just very rarely at home. Well, I’ve been craving it. I have yet to act on it in the way of including it in our nightly meals. Still, when I’m doing my weekly meal planning, I find myself drawn to all of the meaty recipes I can find.
Weird cravings = you might be pregnant!
Alas, no I am NOT pregnant, just in a desparate need to watch Food Inc.
3) I can’t stop eating
Literally. I could eat all day right now. Which is slightly unusual because in my more recent past I have been eating 1.5 meals a day. I just haven’t been that hungry lately. I’m making up for it now though, I’m becoming an avid fan of the two lunches diet. I am trying to keep it to healthy things though, strictly veggie sandwiches and salads.
Although this could definitely be a sign of supporting life, I think it’s just a sign that I am not in fact pregnant – but experiencing my monthly curse… Which was confirmed this past weekend.
In just the short time it has taken me to write this post, I was already asked, yet again, if we were planning to baby make anytime soon. See what I mean?! I just can’t escape it.
As much as I love a good case of the baby fever, and have experienced it quite viciously ever since getting engaged, I am not, in fact child bearing at the current time.
Maybe next year we’ll consider the topic again, but for now, we’re just practicing.