Preggo? No Preggo?

Now that I'm in my 7th month, it's harder to play my favorite guessing game, "Preggo? No Preggo?" wherein yours truly tries to dress in a way that makes others question whether she's pregnant, or just fat.

I don't know why I get perverse pleasure in hiding my belly, but it's fun to see how long I can go before my coworkers actually realize I'm pregnant.

This jacket is always good at covering up the massive belly bump:


And wearing all black is also a great shrinking trick:


As a result, I'm in my last trimester and some people still just think I've gained a bit of weight! But, as you can see, the belly is ginormous now. I'll never stop being in awe at how the right clothing can hide so so much!



So now that I'm in the final stretch, I've been pleasantly shocked at how easy pregnancy has been. It's like a non-event. Other than giving up jogging (and caffeine and cold medicine when I'm sick) it really hasn't intruded much on my life. It's just like having a beer-gut I imagine. And in fact, when I look in the mirror, I reminded of this old pastor I used to know who had one of those bellies that hung over his belt.

I am however, starting to grow terrified at (a) the impending actual birth and (b) the reality of having to take care of a very demanding fragile human.

And also, I'm a tad shocked at how my baby will likely look. Just today I found a picture of my hubby when he was a baby, and...well, I'm still adjusting to it. The baby version of him is just so uncanny...he looks like him, just imprinted on a soft pudgy face. It's so trippy...like some genetic optical illusion.