People with experience keep telling me that being pregnant in the summertime can sometimes suck. I don't do well with heat under normal circumstances...My red hair and unnaturally white skin is genetic proof that I'm inclined toward cooler climes.
But, with the 90-plus-degree weather this week, I learned that being in heat while growing a human is just plain wrong.
I won't go into too many gory details, but there was an incident at a gas station that involved an empty tank of gas, too many cars waiting for a spot, no air conditioning, and one very agitated pregnant woman. I was in such an annoyed state that it wasn't until after the fog had cleared that I realized that people at the gas station were staring at me open-mouthed as if saying, "Who IS that unpleasant red-headed fat girl?" Note to self, when having a hormonal hissy fit, don't do it in a parking lot with the windows down.
It ended with Eric sighing good-naturedly and handing me a five dollar bill to get a cold drink while he patiently pumped the gas. I not only got the drink, I got a Snickers as well. I realized as I gave up my driving rights to Eric and crawled into the passenger seat to munch on my chocolate bar that number one: Eric has learned that calming me = feeding me candy and french fries, and two: I've reverted to the emotional intelligence of a five-year old. I didn't care. It was damn hot, and people should have moved out of my way...besides, that Snickers was tasty.
I also learned that no matter how terrible I look, I should not wear jeans when it's 95 degrees out. At home, I feel comfortable wearing shorts or sundresses or even, to be brutally honest, going pantless. But whenever possible, I like to spare the public views of the swollen logs of cookie dough that used to be my legs. But, after the gas-station incident, I went to Old Navy and bought three shapeless, gray muumuu things off the sales rack. I don't care if I look like a porpoise when I wear them; I'm wearing them for the rest of the summer.
Also, unless I'm going to be near water, I don't think I'll come out in the day much from now on. My life will closely resemble that of a vampire, which is very chic now, no? Except instead of sparkling in the sunlight a la Edward Cullen, my head will start spinning and I'll burst into flames a la Dracula. And Dracula is sooooo not as hot as Edward Cullen.