Time off

I've decided to take a break for a few days next week -- a break from being pregnant, that is.

It's just too all-consuming. The books, the e-mails, the 17 pounds I've gained so far (GOD), the constant talking/shopping/e-mailing/obsessing about it. I'm the most guilty of perpetuating this, because it's on my mind constantly. My poor husband who has to hear about every detail (like I'm sure he really cares what kind of nipples we buy for baby bottles) must be about to lose his mind -- though he is very, very patient. I am worried that pregnancy is becoming who I am, and I need to resist that.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm not going to go smoke a pack of Luckys and drink pi~na coladas (mmmm, pi~na coladas) and eat imported brie. But I am just going to actively stop talking about it, reading about it on the Internet, and -- if I can help it -- thinking about it (so much anyway) for just a little while. Maybe 24 hours. 36 if I can.

I'll start right after this weekend, when I'm going to see my sister -- who will almost certainly want to discuss every gory detail and touch my ever-growing gut constantly. That should put me over the top.