Fat

.. is how I feel.

I can't get into the clothes that fit me barely 4 weeks ago.... waaaahhhh

And today I couldn't do any work, because every time I got up to do so, I thought I needed to eat first. And so I did.

And now I'm wondering if I can blame all this on the wiggly fetus (WF, for short) or if I have turned into one of those gluttons who are always craving food just because they are used to eating all the time.

Speaking of WF, Monday will be the day I'll get to check him/her out again- the first time since that day in September when I was expecting to see a ruptured, hemorrhaged, and emptied womb and instead caught sight of my little, dancing WF. That sight was what brought me some degree of feeling, towards WF, warmer than that of imminent doom. You've got to hand it to the kid, surviving a godawful hemorrage and dancing in the aftermath. Of course, WF didn't really look like a kid at the time, more like a baby lizard, but still.

Will I ever be able to fit into my old clothes five months from now? I'll probably have to go on some marathon exercise/crash diet routine to do so. In the meantime, thank God for drawstring pants.

Come to think of it, Monday may be the day I find out if WF is a boy or a girl. From my vast (not) epidemiological studies, I have concluded that people whose origins are from countries where sex testing of fetuses is banned (India, China) or where sex testing is expensive (most of the world) are the ones most likely to instantly agree to find out (once they get pregnant in America, I mean) the sex of their unborn child. Caucasians are the ones who blithely say, 'Oh, we want a surprise'. The rest of the world is in a frenzy to know, to plan and to reorder their thoughts, if necessary.

My gut feeling is that WF is a boy... only because of the rather painful kicks that WF has been administering to me. Surely I was never that active as a child? Oh, let's not forget the amount of food I've been consuming for the past few months now. Surely, I never needed that amount of feeding as a baby?

Digression: My mom says I was a pretty quiet baby, who peed a lot, earning me the nickname of "Boiler"- in those days before Racold Instant Heaters, water would be poured into a big brass vessel known as a boiler, which had a heating coil in it and a few minutes later, hot water would come out through an opening. My uncle apparently thought it was vastly amusing that I did the same.

The sooner I find out what WF is, the better. What if WF is actually a girl? Then all this unconcious thought (not so unconcious now, I guess) about WF being a boy will totally have me unprepared for that.

Not that RK and I are particularly prepared for anything. We don't have a clue about what to do with a baby. RK has plans of speaking only in Sanskrit and of great people who achieved success in the medical and public health fields so that the baby will be motivated to be the same. "Fine, as long as you also change the diapers while doing all this. I've read that baby poop is disgusting and smelly", I tell him. Upon which, he pauses and changes the subject. That is the sum extent of our planning.

In addition to drawstring pants, I also thank God for mothers. Mine and RK's will be there for a few months to help out after the delivery, so I presume they will know what to do.