Reminiscing mobility

In the immortal words of King Curtis “I’m comin’ to the edge.” In fact, I’m quite certain that I could not feel any more rotund. The pregnancy waddle is a REAL and disturbing phenomenon. Trust me, it can’t be good when just trying on your MATERNITY pants sends you into a franticly claustrophobic, oh-my-gawd-I’m-going-to-have-to-cut-myself-out-of-these, tizzy. My darling, growing child has now relegated me to one, count that ONE pair of pants I can comfortably breathe in. Tops and t-shirts are now down to the dirty half-dozen, or less. I’ve tried scrounging around in my husband’s closet for anything that will fit over the bump, only, he likes his tees tighter than tight. Uggh! XL never sounded so appealing. But don’t get me wrong. I’m not complaining, more like stating facts. Besides, who really cares if I look like a hobo for the next 2-3 weeks. (Or 5. Worst. Case. Scenario.) Our little boy will be here soon!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes, that deserves a lot of exclamation points. Perhaps when my body settles itself back down I will one day wear clothing like this again, maybe with a few burp cloths strewn across the shoulder.