waterboarding has nothing on window shopping!

Waterboarding has nothing on this kind of torture!

I took myself window shopping yesterday. I strolled along Bloor St. after work and peeked into stores that carry the furthest things from maternity clothes. Clothes that I used to be able to wear in small sizes. 

Clothes that I would die to buy for spring. Or at least fantasize about buying - because I think they might actually fit me!

It was horrible. 

Salespeople - the teenybopper kind - smiled politely until they saw the belly. Then they gritted their teeth and tried to get away. Unfortunately not before they asked "oh, wow, like how many months are you?"

"A million," I said, and re-folded the pencil skirt I'm dying to be able to wear right now.

Since I'm feeling rather bulbous and uncomfortable these days (sleeping sitting up just plain sucks) I've overcome my fear of labour and delivery and just want this baby out. 

So, I've focused my anxieties on losing the baby weight after its born. This lead me to the evening's second bout of torture: I walked into my old boxing gym and saw one of the trainers I love - she's skinny and bouncy in her tight pants and shrunken sweatshirt. God - what I wouldn't give to wear a shrunken sweatshirt!!!

I tried on one of my old ones the other night (from my former unpreggo life) and it barely covered half a boob (I can successfully hide an entire pack of pencils underneath my boobs and in that crease between my bosom and stomach - very unbecoming).

I digress. Right at that moment when I saw the trainer, a light breeze from outside's springlike weather wafted past me. And it made me, more than anything, more than dying to wear a small top, want to workout again.

Like how I used to workout: like crazy: big weights! High jumping! Stair running!

And then I got one of those awful sharp pains in my lower abdomen - the ones that mean your ligaments are loosening to prepare for delivery.

And then I had to sit down.

And it sucked!