Of course, right?
I immediately noticed its absence when my mom and I pulled into the driveway where the party was being held and let out a very lovely string of expletives that definitely say "impending motherhood." (Much like my KEG T-shirt from college that is ironically the only one that fits me these days.)
Fortunately, word of my memory lapse spread quickly and everyone who DID remember to bring a camera started snapping away and vowed to e-mail me copies. The few below were taken by my mom and aunt, but I stupidly forgot to ask to get my picture taken WITH anyone. So most of the photos are of me opening gifts.
I would happily bore you with shot after shot of cute outfits, baby wipes and diaper rash cream, but, um, my legs no longer look like legs. They have morphed into huge tree trunks and every photo of me in the chair looks like my mammoth limbs grew out of the carpet in front of me.
I know I've gained weight. I can tell because even my maternity clothes don't fit as well as they used to. But looking at yourself in the mirror every day and not noticing the gradual change is one thing. Looking at a image after image of your arms that now resemble an overstuffed tube of encased meat is completely another. Sausage arms. Tree trunk legs. By November I might have to staple a bed sheet around my body as the only means to cover my Caravan ass.
So, here are a few photos of the party and two of me that won't make your eyes bleed. *
All of the gigantic presents almost created a standing-room only situation.
The hostess made a "flower" centerpiece out of baby socks.
My friend Courtney got me this awesome outfit because we both wore
overalls almost every day of our senior year in high school. I think I had
12 pairs in all different colors. I can't WAIT for Little Miss to fit into it.
This is the beautiful homemade quilt I received.
I absolutely love this photo of my grandma and cousin Vanessa.
How cute is this cake? And it tasted even better than it looked.
My car filled to the brim.
* In case it wasn't painfully obvious, I am being sarcastic. I am completely comfortable with the necessary weight gain of pregnancy. Please don't come to my house and impale my sausage arms and tree trunk legs on a huge pitchfork and roast my Caravan ass over a bonfire. Thank you.