Well, the third trimester won’t get a good write-up from me. I'm certainly not feeling as "glowing" and bubbly as I did in the second trimester. I'm wobbling now, and I only have 4 shirts that cover my belly completely. In a word: misery.
I need to jump. I'm up all night, and I say things to Matt, around midnight, like, "Want to watch a movie?" He said that I'm frightening him.
I passed a girl running yesterday, and under my breath said, “Bitch.”
Boredom sets in, moments where I feel like doing nothing, enough to read blogs as bad as B-movies; something along the lines of Titanic, or Valley of the Dolls. Snore.
I finished another Michael Chabon book. What a yummy writer. I’m giving my 16-yr-old brother Summerland, a Michael Chabon for young adults. Start ‘em early.
Last night, feeling exceptionally fat and unglamorous, out of nowhere Matt said, “You’re beautiful.” That is such a nice thing to hear while pregnant. He sweeps me off my swollen feet.
Finally, true love.
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