Holy Moly. 30 weeks. Last night I came down with a severe case of body dysmorphic disorder. I was tired, cranky, and feeling really uncomfortable…. and then I noticed what I thought were new stretch marks on my sides….. I then proceeded to basically roll into a ball and sob. I am a real treat. Through my tears, as Mr. A was trying to comfort me, I confessed that while I love what’s in my belly and I like my baby bump, I absolutely cannot handle the stretch marks on my stomach. “I feel gross,” I said.
This morning I realized that if you were to have asked me to pick my belly out of a line-up last night, I wouldn’t have been correct. I definitely have stretch marks on my stomach, but they’re not as bad as they were in my head last night. While this is comforting this morning, the fact remains that my body just isn’t mine anymore and it’s probably completely normal to have some sort of sadness about that reality. Today I am just over looking like a fertility goddess… I want to feel normal again.