For at least a week now I have been feeling unmistakable kicking movements from within. I’m at 20 weeks. At first, they were quite subtle and I wasn’t too sure if was the baby bending it like Beckham, or my digestive system making waves.
Now I quite clearly have the occassional five-a-side-football game going on and can even get a wriggle by request by lying on my back. Driving to work listening to Wolfmother caused the little one to mimick a mosh pit. Glad to see the newbie leans towards having an indie taste in music.
I also relented to the belly and went into a maternity clothese store today. It felt like entering a masonic hall (masonry is very big in my family tree so I get grew up with the vibe). There were other new initiates there – girls who had bellies too. I was not alone! At first, it all felt alien. I meekly touched all the fabrics and wandered around feeling lost, wondering if these special ceremonial robes were meant for me.
The helpful assistant must have seen my lost look and took me under her wing. She was very kind to me, and never once laughed at my newbie questions. She even showed me how to operate the special garments.
My initiation was complete when I entering the changing chambers with my three sacred extendable garments. I put them onto my body, stepped out and was immediately converted into a state of ancient comfyness. I heard equally jubilant cries from other change rooms as we all exclaimed about how lovely it was to have something that didn’t maraude the belly like a clawing tiger – and instead, was like a soft fluffy cloud cocooning the midriff.
I am still size 8 which helps with the psychology of not knowing where to begin with selecting clothes for my metamorphosis. I tried bigger normal sizes and ended up with a builders bum crack look every time I needed to reach ground level. I now know the secret of the extendable trouser – it is the gateway to eternal comfort.
The Grand Lodge Mistress (the helpful assistant) passed on some ancient knowledge, obviously passed down from a generation of wise crones. It was the startling revelation that my upper body half had grown all it would. What? I’ve only just migrated to a ‘B’ cup after a life of ‘A’ and I’ve still got space to fill in those B size chambers. I thought I was going to progress through the ranks of sacred cups, finally filling the largest of holy chalices – being award a temporary ‘bosom’.
My ideas for writing a PHD thesis on the age old question: “How does Lara Croft run and crawl through tombs with those bazookas?” seems all but lost.