One thing I've found out damn quick: Just like regular clothes can slim you or make you look fat, so can maternity clothes make you look varying degrees of pregnant. The blouse I'm wearing today: OK. The nightgown I wore last night - EEK. I looked like I was carrying 5-year-old twins.

Since I seemed to have grown to such gigantic proportions in said sleepwear, I let Jason measure my belly last night. We found out that my waistline is at 48 inches. Yup, I'm 4 feet wide. As he also measured my height at 5'2", he grabbed a calculator and figured out that my girth is 77% the measurement of my height. This would really explain why there are slugs that move faster than me.

And why our kitty Pita has become such a hazard...You'd think that, after my ex-boyfriend's buddy Eric accidentally stepped on her while wearing steel-toed combat boots 7 years ago, she would've developed a healthy, lifelong fear of feet. But no, she's always hanging around mine, like a small fluffy pillow that is somehow attached to my ankles. Since I can no longer see my feet and only work on blind faith that they are still there, this means Pita has developed into a F.M.M.H. (Furry Mobile Moving Hazard - not redundant if you realize that while she's moving, I am too. I'm mobile, she's a hazard to my moving. So there, any naysayers to my grammar. You may be right anyway, but at this point I don't care, I just want to take a nap.)

Maybe I should buy and wear said steel-toed combat boots to keep Pita from being underfoot, not as a weapon (please!) but as a sight to bring back unpleasant memories of what happens when you're a little kitty who runs under people feet. But as previously noted, I look ridiculous enough in maternity "fashion" as it is. And who knows, I could already be wearing steel-toed combat boots for how heavy my legs feel anymore. Not like I can see what's on my feet, anyway. :-P