This past weekend I tried on some maternity clothes as my shirts seem to be shrinking on a daily basis. You'd think that not having my shirts fit would be a trigger to the fact that I actually have something growing in there...no. Can we go back to my fear of change? Perhaps if I don't believe it, nothing will change. Yes, let's go with that.
Anyway, back to the shopping adventures. We all know that fitting room mirrors are not the nicest things on the planet. I suppose I shouldn't blame it all on the mirrors...those lights are bitches too. I don't understand how they can possibly find that combination, look into the mirror, and not say, "Holy moley! I look like shit today!" And then look the next day and the next day, and saying the same thing, not think perhaps some different lighting may be in order.
So I am in the room of magical mirrors trying on bras bigger than have ever accompanied me into a fitting room, and some pants and shirts. And that's when I see it. It's new. It's definitely proud of it's new home. Back fat. Staring back at me in all it's glory.
Riddle me this: What does this kid possibly need me to have back fat for?
So far I had been all proud of myself because the only place I was gaining anything was in my stomach and bodacious ta-tas. But now, now I know. It was all a trick.
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