You know, I had resolved to be one of those pregnant ladies who carries herself properly. No heaving or grunting. No over-sized tweety bird t-shirts. Don't put away the cute shoes. Certainly don't sacrifice your hair. Keep the underwear cute and tiny, even if the rest of the body grows.
And.
Screw it. Screw it all. The only rule I have not yet broken (oh please, no) is the tweety bird t-shirt. And the most recent addition to my pile of shame (which includes 2 pairs of shoes which I have worn every single day for the past 6 months, the geriatric arch supports that go IN the shoes, the humongo cotton panties, and the "good heavens- is that my grandmother's bra?")?
A belly belt. A bra. For your belly. A brelly. It is hideous. And I love it so much.
