The Tipping Point

That's the title of a book by one of my past writerly crushes, Malcolm Gladwell. I even emailed him once and he wrote me back. It made my entire life.

So, I'm getting to the point where certain articles of clothing I have that aren't maternity wear but could still work as maternity wear are beginning not to work as maternity wear anymore.

So, yeah. I have the feeling that this is the last week or so I'll be able to wear this non-maternity dress to work.

I'm 100% knocked up now. Not like I wasn't before, but this week it's just straight up girl, you pregnant. My walks to and from work aren't as brisk, but I'm still loving it and I guess enjoying my still relatively unlimited mobility.

The only area where my mobility is starting to be limited is bending down. Is this the bending down tipping point?

I have a nice hand rest while I'm teaching now. I just kind of interlace my fingers and just prop my hands up on my belly while I'm explaining the nuances of the progressive tenses or what have you. It's kind of nice.

What's not nice? Seeing those numbers on the scale. Every time I dare get on the blasted scale, as my students would say, I'm shook.

Gummy bears and brownies. Are they healthy? Nah. Shall they be consumed tonight? You better believe it. And no, I'm not "craving" them. As if I have some sort of inexplicable primal desire for them. Ain't even gonna lie. I just like brownies and gummy bears and now I have a pretty solid excuse to stuff my face with them.