Here it is, the week 34 belly shot.  After seeing photos of myself from my bridal shower I've been avoiding cameras like the plague.  Realizing that I indeed look every much as big as I feel was a very bleak point in my pregnancy.  I guess no one ever claims this to be the most flattering thing that happens to a lady.

You'll notice that I'm trying something new in this photo- I'm smiling.  I find this irony somewhat haunting.  Have you ever noticed that it's rare to see a smiling pregnant lady?  Pregnant ladies don't smile unless they feel like they have to.  Or if you give them a piece of flourless chocolate cake...OR if you were to tell them that the FDA just released the results of a new study that claims that contrary to previous evidence, wine consumed in large volumes is actually GOOD for unborn fetuses.

Another ironic thing about this photo is the tampon dispenser in the background.  I totally forgot about those things until the other day when a friend was complaining to me about a wicked case of PMS she was experiencing.  I guess I'll have to deal with that whole scenario again, right?  Wonder when that freakish operation will resume.  Just thinking about this makes me want to scream obsenities at the next man I see.  How do they get off so easy in this life?  Please tell me there's some sort of cross they have to bear that evens the score.  If anything I guess it would have to be balding or ball pain. 

I just want to go to bed. 

It's been a good week.  I've officially reached the third trimester of pregnancy and I am feeling it.  In an attempt to not complain (and to spare you some gory details) I won't elaborate. 

We had an ultrasound today and bebe is looking good.  We double checked and she's still a girl.  From vanity's perspective I am pleased to report that her cranium appears to be perfectly spherical and she has a cute button nose.  The doctor was kind enough to entertain my neurotic questions about her brain looking normal and her weight being where it needs to be.  Seems like a healthy kid.  Maybe now I'll stop having nightmares where I give birth to an amorphous blob of skin, hair and teeth.

In other news, it seems as if I've managed to brainwash myself out of my fear of needles.  For those who know of my struggles with shots and blood draws this is a big deal.  I credit a mix of self-induced hypnosis and my newly adopted belief that motherhood generally makes people stronger. 

"WOAH!  LOOK AT YOUR BELLY!" comments started this week.

Immediately after this picture was taken I went out and got a BLT sandwich.  Fat baby gets what fat baby wants. 

As you can see, it appears that Bebe had a giant hulk-like growth spurt this past week.  She's making her mama feel big and tired, like Delta Burke after pulling an all-nighter. 

Went artsy with this one. 

Here's the week 19 pic from the inside of the restroom at work.  FYI- The reason I've been taking my belly pictures at work is because we're having some construction done at our house and at any given moment there are 4 burly, sweaty, sunburned men in my bedroom when I'm getting ready in the morning.  They're done today so expect different scenery next week.

Pumpy is moving around quite a lot today, but none of the kicks can be felt from the outside yet.  OH!  And TOMORROW we go for our big ultrasound where we'll hopefully find out if there are girl parts or boy parts between Pump's tiny little fetus legs. 

Pumpy is the size of a Mango this 18th week and has all kinds of gross stuff happening to it according to whattoexpect.com.  I won't go into details because it makes me a little sick to my stomach.  On the up side, whattoexpect.com also suggested that leg cramps may be keeping me up at night and I'm probably experiencing back pain, but neither of those things are happening to me.  I'm attributing that to my frequent belabored trips to the gym and preggo astanga yoga. 

I should note that I'm not cross-eyed in real life even though I kind of look it in this photo.

I decided to start taking more pictures of my belly now while it can still claim some point on the "cute" spectrum.  Before you know it it's going to be raging out of control and I'll start avoiding cameras and cursing Steve O'Connell's name.