Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Sexy Time

I miss feeling sexy.


I miss walking down the hall at my old job, with a partially unbuttoned oxford and a pencil skirt and heels, knowing that every man checked me out as I passed. Even the gay ones.


I miss walking through a bar in a low-cut t-shirt and tight jeans and feeling confident enough to push my chest out and sashay just a tiny bit.


Now? Well, now I live in Puff's size large t-shirts and lounge pants. I haven't worn heels since I lost my job. And when I walk through a sports bar now, it's en route to the bathroom, head hung in shame, because I don't want to make eye contact. I'm just there for the fried pickles.


It's amazing how I went from this...


 


to this...


 


And it seemingly happened overnight!


Not so long ago, I would've cringed at the thought of publicly sharing a photo of my size 6 body in a bikini. I've never liked my stomach, even at its tiniest. But now? Now that thing has taken on a life of its own and I feel like I waddle with a 20 pound beach ball stuffed under my shirt. No, I never expected to feel or be sexy during pregnancy. But I also never thought I would lose all confidence in how I look.


It doesn't help when Puff tells me he'd like to watch me walk around in my sexiest panties. But only from behind.


(He should be thankful my ass hasn't grown so I can even still wear my sexiest panties!)


With 13 weeks (give or take) left in this whole pregnancy state, I suppose I should just embrace my growing size. I should indulge in the Poptarts and Fritos that have become a pregnancy diet staple. Because Lord knows, those will be out the window and a strict calorie counting will commence as soon as given the green-light from the doc. It will be nice to have moments when I feel "hot" again. My aim is by sometime in September to be back in my single digit pants.


Now if we can just get Puff to compliment me sometimes and remind me that he doesn't feel like he's married to a troll. Ya know, other than saying my boobs look good over dinner. Or that I would look pretty if I sat up straighter. Casanova, he is not. But I'm no Kate Upton either.

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