WT...Who?

Having spent the better part of 6 weeks alternating 2 sets of PJs and a sleep bra, I avoided the mirror naturally. Who wants to look at their bloated self in total disarray when there is nothing to be done in the interim anyhow. The shiny grey-white roots were already a beacon in the bathroom mirror, which cannot be avoided. Yet now reality comes knocking and I can no longer allow my daughter to think her mother is a troll who smells bad and looks like a character from "Where the Wild Things Are".

I decide that since I still couldn't fit into regular clothes between my enromous knockers and lack of waistline that Victoria Secret sweats were the safest bet for daily wear. I already resigned myself to the fact that I would be wearing at least my maternity tops and xtra large yoga plants for the better part of the coming year, and I was fine with that considering how complimentary they are to my middle.

I crossed my fingers and hoped that the baby would sleep long enough for me to humanize my outter self. Hubby encouraged me to get moving, and into the shower I went...razor, shampoo, conditioner, hair treatment, aromatherapy body wash...ahhh the warm water...I never want to get out. Conscious of the time limitations I didn't allow too much of the luxury. Dried off with towel on my head I rushed upstairs to face my eyebrows...ACK...where did that unibrow come from?! I tweezed and waxed and finally felt like I had a face again even though the red splotches rose in protest of my mini makeover.

Clean tee shirt and trendy sweats I looked in the chevalier mirror. WTF?