Bloated Bowling

Last night my office holiday party was cancelled due to low turnout (okay, how pathetic is THAT?), so I forced G. to take me disco bowling. A couple years ago, this was the thing to do (it's 21+, blacklights and neon pins, and loud music... but most importantly NO children's birthday parties). Needless to say we were the ONLY -- and I do mean ONLY -- people there (confirming my long-held suspicion that I am two years behind on most fashions).

Anyway, the logic behind this outing was -- maybe I would feel less bloated and oogy, and less all-around pregnant, if I got OFF the couch and OUT of the house.

It partially worked. But before I go recommending it, here's the rub:

Conjuring up the imagery of passing a bowling ball-sized object through one's pelvis becomes all the more terrifying when one is heaving an actual bowling ball down the lane.

(Holy shit, is 8 pounds really THAT heavy? I am totally screwed!)