Please don’t tell anyone who is more than 5 months pregnant, nor my two dear, sweet friends who carried and delivered twins that I said this, but great galloping ghosts, I don’t remember having a 5 month old fetus feeling so damned BIG. I swear I’m more uncomfortable now than I was at 8 months last time. As I said, though, don’t tell anyone whose uterus is, or has been, bigger than a cantaloupe. A really, really, big cantaloupe.
While we’re on that, why do they measure pregnancy milestones in fruit and vegetables? For heaven’s sake, telling me something is as long as a banana or a carrot is just plain stupid. Come with me to the store, you lameass lazy writers, and show me which banana. Do you mean that baby carrot or one of the eight thousand other sizes carrots come in? Why not tell me that my 9 inch fetus is about the length of 9 consecutive big lines on a ruler? Idiots.
The Brits understand. When I sought websites in proper English, hoping they might in terms other than produce, I found their measurements are way more reassuring. 360g?! Holy crow, that’s enormous, right?. 360 of anything is big. No wonder I feel like I swallowed a soccer ball. And 27cm? That’s…ah, hell, I wish we had converted to metric so I’d have some damned idea how long that is, but it sounds just huge.
But then, the Brits said this: “You’re probably feeling quite comfortable these days. This, in fact, may be the most enjoyable time in your pregnancy. ” Ah, man, f— you! Is this going to be the f— you trimester? Cuz I thought that was the 19 weeks of incessantly barfing and exhaustion. No? This is the f— you trimester? I’m not sure. I kind of remember the next one being the exact opposite of a picnic, but what do I know? I had forgotten about feeling that I could never, ever eat again after one almond.
Maybe it’s the eyebrows little Fetalanine just grew, or something, but I am just not large enough to accommodate any more growth.
Or explain jokes about phenylalanine. If you don’t get them, ask the Brits. They explain everything so well.