Well, it’s official: pregnancy has left its permanent mark on my body. Despite using the arsenal of skin-lubing products pictured below, I discovered my first stretch marks (on my hips) two days ago. After confirming that they were not a trick of the light, and could not be washed away, I allowed myself to have a moment. Or twenty.
It’s not that I mind giving up my body for the sake of creating life, but I can’t help but feel that 9 months of body changes are enough… do I really need permanent evidence of baby moohoo? I always thought that if I could escape the physical trauma of adolescence without those telltale signs of growth spurts and weight gain, I’d be set. Perhaps I’m just getting what’s due, albeit at a later date than I anticipated. And I suppose it’s nothing that a little fake tan won’t hide when all is said and done. In any case, listen up moohoo: we’ve got 9 weeks left inhabiting the same body. Let’s make it as painless as possible and I promise to spoil you to no end once you’ve made your grand arrival. Deal?
In the meantime, I’m going to continue slathering on the cocoa butter with the hope that it actually has some preventive effect.