Dodgy phone photo of me at the weekend ready to go and eat at David Bann. I would like to point out I’m wearing a size 10 dress in this photo. I’ve never fitted into a size 10! (Yes, it is a maternity dress but let’s keep that quiet eh Eleanor?!)
It’s strange how this pregnancy malarkey affects how I think about my body. I keep thinking about how wonderful and strange it is, and how both well-designed and ill-suited it seems to be for the task. I don’t mind putting on weight because I know it has a reason. And really, shouldn’t it be like this always? Bodies are always up to astounding and bewildering things, fragile and strong at the same time. I hope I can remember this feeling after May and be a bit more appreciative of my body, even if there is more of it (she says, scraping the last of the Nutella out of the jar with a spoon).
Having said that, I am feeling a little bit fed up of the limitations brought on by being in this ‘state’. I’ve had a real hankering to get my skates on and go to roller derby practice this week. Or to kick someone in Tae Kwon Do without feeling bad because they can’t kick me back. Or to pick up furniture without being shouted at. Just lying on my back without feeling like I’m going to pass out would also be good. I’ve been going to a couple of different antenatal exercise classes, and although in some ways they’re really good, they just feel far too gentle for what I still feel capable of at the moment. Raising my arms up and down, or twirling my wrists round and round can begin to feel a little pointless, although I’m sure I’ll feel less like this in a few weeks!