My life at 38 weeks

I'm officially in Week 38 of my pregnancy, and I can honestly state that I'm ready to not be pregnant anymore . . . for now, at least. Everything was all sunshine and rainbows until Week 36, and that's when it happened. I no longer felt like the effervescent Pregnancy Unicorn my friends labeled me as, and more like a giant, waddling sloth vaguely resembling Ursula from The Little Mermaid. 

I feel huge. And what's worse, I'm always hungry. Which doesn't help when my two major cravings right now are Top Ramen and Thrifty Ice Cream from Rite Aid. One packet of Top Ramen isn't enough anymore; when I sit down to chow, I need at least two. Then I waddle over to my car to slither down the street to the nearest Rite Aid, where the ice cream counter guy now knows me by name as I order my (double) scoop of cookies 'n cream ice cream (if they're out of mint 'n chip).

To make matters worse, I looked in the mirror the other day and was startled at how old I looked. When did this happen?! The damn smile lines around my mouth are deeper than usual; the wrinkles around my eyes a bit more pronounced. So much for that fifty dollars I spent on BareMinerals Multi-Wrinkle Repair cream. Nothing seems able to stave away the imminent signs of age that have crept into my life. Couple that with the fact that I'm Frump Girl right now because I'm so huge that only, oh, three outfits fit me these days, and it's enough to make a girl cry . . . or stuff her face with Top Ramen. 

I'm very excited to meet Baby Girl #2, but maybe it's just the weight of our recent move that's gotten me a little down. We've been at our new house for exactly one week and nothing's unpacked yet thanks to Home Depot. Yes, my wrinkles, my frumpiness, my cravings -- they are all Home Depot's fault. They say our flooring won't be installed for another week from now, so until then, J and I haven't unpacked since we'll just have to repack and move it once the installation happens. Imagine pushing "pause" on your life for two weeks, winding through a maze of boxes whenever you need to go to the bathroom (which is often because you've got a full-term baby pushing down hard on your bladder now), and eating everything off paper Chinet plates. All with a toddler. 

What I really want right now is simple: To be skinny again, to own a pair of oversized blue Ray-Bay Aviators, and to be in Palm Springs drinking a bloody mary at Cheeky's. Is that really too much to ask?