Yippie Kai Yai Yay....

It seems that daily there is something new going on with me. None of it too exciting unless you count the fifteen minutes I spent yelling at my newly bulging thighs this past week. We are not even going to talk about the saggy butt syndrome. Yup. Already. My body is in fat storing mode. No matter what now those saddlebags will sit there until I'm done breastfeeding and doing tight'n'tone at the gym for days on end again. I'm just going to start yelling, "Giddy up!" each time I start walking now.

My breast have expanded to larger proportions and they've been called 'cans' by H more than once. Which really? Is that correct terminology? Cans?

I was blessed to not have the smell of coffee wafting through my house this morning. Thank you Jesus! The stuff I used to wish I could tether to an IV all day is now the devil's juice. The smell alone makes me retch for hours on end as it seems to linger longer than an annoying neighbor.

I will attempt to hit the grocery store today as we are sadly low on supplies. Though the last time I went I ended up sobbing in the aisles as I fought back the gagging and nausea. Each aisle I grew worse and when I realized that wretched Daniel Powter song was blaring over the PA system, I really thought I might go postal. I freakin' hate that song even when I'm not a hormonal nauseous mess. It made me feel incredibly stabby as I tried to just exit the store without having to be overly chatty to the checkout clerk.

Some say the third trimester is the hardest because you are huge and you just want that baby out of you. I say, F that yo. That's a damn scurrilous lie. The first trimester is kickin' my ass at least six times a day with no time for recovery. Me no likey it indeed.