Bikini Belly

We’re heading to the Bahamas next week for our babymoon. I would add this word to Frank’s daddy dictionary but I just learned it myself. Apparently it’s a trip that couples take before their baby is born. It’s like our last hurrah—sort of like a graduation trip minus the wet t-shirt contests.

I only had one condition for the trip: it had to be somewhere tropical. I was not going to go my entire pregnancy without getting to do that whole pregnant-girl-in-a-bikini look. Finally, no sucking in! No finding that perfect lounge-chair position to properly distribute belly bulge. No more hiding behind a tree or a tall pina colada in pictures because I just ate a big buffet meal.

When you’re pregnant, you can let it all hang out.

But last night Frank looked at my belly and said, “Maybe we jumped the gun on this babymoon thing.” My belly is not bikini ready! I’m only 16 weeks along; there’s not a whole lot to hang out.

“Oh, poor Writinggal. She’s not fat enough for her bikini. Wah, wah wah.”

Wait. You will be crying for me when you hear this: There’s a little bit hanging out, just not enough. It’s this terrible in-between stage where you can’t tell if I’m pregnant or pudgy.

Are the tears starting to form yet?

Imagine this:
“Hey, honey, look at that girl over there. Do you think she’s pregnant or just fat?”

“Well, she’s sucking down a big drink so she can’t be pregnant. I think she just made one too many trips to the buffet line.”

“Hahahahahaha! You’re right! I did see her totally pigging out at breakfast. And look, she’s scarfing down that hamburger and fries. It’s kind of gross.”

“Someone get that girl a sarong.”

“Or Jenny Craig’s number. Hahahahahahaha.”

In my defense that was a virgin drink! And I AM eating for two! Well, one and a quarter.

There’s only one solution: I’m going to have to buy a bunch of those pregnancy novelty t-shirts. They’re like $50 each but a worthwhile investment:

“Yes, I’m pregnant. No, you can’t touch my belly.”
“Does this baby make me look fat?”

“Dying for a drink.”

“He did this to me” (with an arrow pointing to Frank or whoever happens to be on my left side at the time).

“Got pickles?”

“I’ve got the golden ticket” (also works as a tribute to my mothering-idol, Britney!)


The good news is, with all these cool new tops, we might not have to rule out the wet t-shirt contest!