The Beginner’s Guide to Getting Free Stuff When You’re Pregnant

“How are you feeling, Mrs R?”

“Heavy”

Count your blessings, name them one by one.

In the spirit of remaining positive, I’m going to list the pro’s of being in my third trimester. Overall, I’ve actually felt better this trimester than the past two. Granted, I don’t sleep well (assuming I’m able to fall asleep), and I just discovered in church this morning that I’m no longer able to take sermon notes because I don’t have enough room on my lap. But enough of the negative. Here’s what I’ve found to be a “blessing” entering into my third trimester (just for reference, I’ll be 32 weeks this Tuesday).

– No one knows when I’m feeling bloated. Heck, I don’t know when I’m feeling bloated.
– I get asked oddly worded pregnancy questions like, “What are you having?”… “Well, I’ve been told I’m having a baby, but I guess we’ll just have to wait and see”
– My husband enjoys shaking my stomach like a magic 8 ball and asking Gracie questions.
– If I’m in a store or restaurant, walking by myself, the staff automatically assumes I’m looking for the bathroom and tells me where it is.
– I don’t have to worry about my fly being unzipped because everything I wear has an elastic waistband.
– Finding out that despite being able to run a stitch in a beating heart, my husband cannot paint my toe nails and he also can’t buckle my sandals. Bless his heart.
– Because of the above, I can now get regular pedicures.
– If I look tired or act out of breath, a cashier will open up a check out line just for me. And I’m not ashamed to admit that I have taken full advantage of that. This does not work at Motherhood Maternity.
– I can say whatever I want, however I want, and just tag on the “Sorry, pregnancy hormones” to the end of my rant and I’m in the clear. Unfortunately my husband stopped buying that line after I used it as an excuse for forgetting to tell him I bought a car. Whoops.
– I get to rub random people’s stomachs. Because that’s the only way to make them stop when they rub mine.
– I can now out-eat my husband. And it really bothers him.

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