Per my OB/GYN, I am measuring at 32 weeks (I'm actually only at 31 weeks). Know what that means? I'm gettin' big, baby.
One of my favorite parts of pregnancy is watching people fight the urge to rake their gaze over my swollen middle. It's a hoot, because the folks who are doing it are desperately angling for subtlety. Oh, and how they fail. I'll bump into the mail distribution chica, for example, and she'll ask me how I'm feeling and furtively peek at my belly, then look back up at me, then back to the belly. And she's not paying the least bit of attention to what I'm saying. It's kind of like the kinder, gentler version of what Pamela Anderson must go through every bloomin' day of her life.
I don't know if they are trying to gauge how far along I am, or if they're hoping to catch the Nessie-like movement in my abdomen, or if they are tummy fetishists. I'm cool with it, though. I mean, at least their not cupping my belly without permission or anything. Now THAT would be a problem.