Sometimes, I'm pretty sure my body is falling apart.
My hair has dried up into little sticks, I've got ugly breakouts all over my face, and I have this weird skin thing going on on my shoulders that kind of looks like I'm turning into an albino, patch by tiny patch.
Not to mention, of course, that my dear, odd little daughter has discovered the joys of kicking my stomach. This is in addition to the delight she's been getting for several weeks now, at the fun of kicking my bladder. The bladder thing is kind of cute sometimes, although I've had to jump up and run to the bathroom on more than one occasion, only to realize I didn't actually have to GO. The stomach thing really kind of hurts, and I'm not pleased about that. I really must keep Milo-the-Buzzing-Turtle at hand more often, so that I can keep her entertained with kicking something other than my vital organs.
I'm not complaining, mind you. I'd rather be kicked in the bladder and have gross pimple-things on my face than have to deal with morning sickness, or bedrest, or unfathomable pain. There are a few things that are going on that REALLY actually hurt -- like the back pain -- and I REALLY wish there were something I could do to make myself feel better, but all in all, I'm feeling pretty good most of the time.
I'm still getting porkier, little by little. I can't find a comfortable way to sit down anymore. I toss and turn all night because there is no possible way to maneuver myself into a comfortable position. And I'll be damned, I still can't imagine what I was thinking when I bought those suede boots that have twenty-eight freaking holes in them -- apiece! I have a new strategy for showering -- I'm simply not going to get my feet dirty anymore. It's easiest. I'm still able to wash my right foot, because I can sort of hoist it up on the soap-holder. The left foot, however, just isn't gonna get thoroughly cleaned for awhile, I don't think.
It's funny, how far away one's feet really are.
At the moment, I'm feeling relatively good. Nothing is aching -- at least not badly enough for me to bitch about it -- and nothing is TOO uncomfortable. I think I'm going to find some excuse for going outside and taking a short walk.
Here's hoping I don't get run down by a fucking crazy-assed Washington driver. THAT would make my body feel less than healthy.
~Helena*