It's the classic Pregnancy Stance: a woman with her hand(s) on her belly, protectively cradling the burgeoning life within. At four months along I am as guilty of this pose as any 8.5 month-er. But here is the secret, ladies and gents: this new-found affectation of mine is not me unconsciously caressing my unborn child, or musing on The Miracle of Life. Oh hell no. Nor is it even (as seems far more likely, given my Dominant CamWhore Personality Traits) a "Look at me! Look at how amazing it is that I am Creating Life! I'm speeeeeee-shul!" sort of thing.
No, Gentle Readers, my hand meditatively stroking my belly is short-hand for "I'm not fat; I'm pregnant! Ask me how!"
(...no wait, don't do that...)
It's nice to know that this new stage of life isn't changing everything about me: the Paranoid Vanity is still there, kicking in and fighting furiously to let people know that It's Pregnancy Damn It. I'm supposed to be all swollen.
(Speaking of which, maybe I should start serenely stroking my ankles, too...)
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