Out in front

I have a friend who thinks he is addicted to diet coke. Thank goodness men can't get pregnant or he would explode into the universe. I have had 4 cans today which is a huge amount of fizzy liquid considering the peanut-sized stomach problem. Luckily it has turned into a beautiful warm evening so I can trump outside and avoid the need to walk away from myself or compete with the dog. The same friend works for a place called Gutshot and I have to say I think I am more suited to such employment at the moment - my gut is definitely shot...

...the midwife referred me to the physio - partly because of my dramatic fall, the likes of which are only seen in crappy shaggy dog movies -but mostly because I am carrying the baby waaaaaay out front. It's crushing my pelvis. It's creating slasher type stretch marks. It's compromising my dignity. I had to squat today to pick up some dropped change and looked like a sumo wrestler preparing in the ring.

The physio will examine my bruised and battered pelvis and if I am lucky, I will have a massage. If I am unlucky, I get a support belt to wear. To complete the sumo look.