Outta my way, Fatty!

I think it's official. I am a big fat pregnant woman.

I have now reached the point where I am slow. People pass me in the hallways! Or if I'm walking with someone (especially the one particular tall coworker I have in mind), I basically have to run to keep up. I am now one of those people you find yourself behind in the hallway and you wonder "Should I pass or should I wait? UGH! Why are you moving so slow! I have things to accomplish and places to go, you know?!" Yep, that's me. I prevent people from going places quickly or accomplishing anything at more than a turtle's pace.

I have also started to breathe really hard. It used to be that if I was breathing hard, or sighing loudly, it was because I was really tired. No more. I am now a loud breather. I think it comes with the fact that it takes so much energy to walk places (especially if I take those annoying things called staircases).

I can no longer see my... um... woo hoo hoo. Or even the bottom of my breasts. Without going into unnecessary details, it is a nice reassurance to know that it's all still there (I can see it in the mirror!). Shaving's a bitch (and no, I don't shave my breasts). Enough said.

I perform an interpretation dance every time I go to put on my socks. Sometimes it's my interpretation of a dying flamingo. Other times, it's my interpretation of a one-legged surfer. Regardless, I'm sure it's entertaining. Someone should give Michael a video camera.

Getting out of my big bath tub is no longer graceful and exotic. But then again, maybe it never was.

And finally, I can no longer stretch or sit like a normal person. I went to my yoga class again last night (first time in two weeks due to being so busy), and I noticed a big difference right away. I could not bend like I did just a couple weeks ago, and forget the funky cross-legged position the instructor wanted us to try (it's supposed to open up our hips). I found myself wondering how it was possible that my butt never quite reached my ankles if I was sitting on my knees. Hmm... yoga apparently is not something that is easy to describe in email. How about this - you just imagine me in a yoga position... now imagine me falling over. You get the point.