Boobs officially alien to me now, and clearly at the beck and call of other forces at work in my bod. I'm clearly just a vessel at this point, which is pretty damned strange. Don't get me wrong, it's great because it's fun and intriguing and bizarre, but I am definitely not fully in control of the operation anymore. "Tiny" seems to have taken the wheel. And I'm getting the slightly bottom-heavy look of a Weeble-Wobble, but as of yet, I don't look pregnant, just chubby. No-one at this point would guess if they didn't already know; they would assume that I had been hitting the snack aisle a little too often.
And, as predicted, maternity clothing expensive and hideous. Which brings me to brilliant entrepreneurial crack-pot idea #127: cheap, elegant, pregnancy gear that doesn't presume to make you look like the Hindenberg in the name of propriety. Lots of empire waist shirts, lots of asian-style dresses that you can wear over pants when you really become blimp-like, lots of wrap-tops in colors other than baby-blue or bright pink. But no charging 75 bucks for a top you're gonna wear for two months. And then have an exchange built into the store: you can buy used or new, all in one place!
It's highway robbery, I tell ya. Of all the evils in this world, maternity clothing is particularly insidious, because it's so short term, and so necessary at the same time. They've got a captive audience, so charging 80 dollars for that sleeveless top is completely doable. Bastards. It must be men that run the industry.