Ahh Hormones

So I have explained to a couple people that, compared to some woman, I have had a relatively easy pregnancy. I didn't throw up too much, no major pains and especially no huge shifts in hormones. Not once have I irrationally yelled at a child, thrown food at my husband demanding something else, or woken up at 2 AM demanding my husband run out and get me a Frosty from Wendy's and some Burger King fries. I do not randomly break down in sobs while watching TV (except Animal Planet, but who can blame me) and to date there has only been one break down and cry moment...until Tuesday.
You see, I have started to experience some fun back pain and a hip that decides that it's time to clock out for the day at about 4 PM. This means that nightly I get to sit in a bathtub and try to heat away my pains. This is also the time that my tummy gets to act as a lone island in a sea of bubble bath, yes that's what it looks like.
So Tuesday night I get out of the bath and dry off and then I take a look at my backside, and there it is, a stretch mark, a big red ripping line that has decided to not only take over my butt but has decided to attempt to invade my hip. This of course lead to my first ridiculous break down.
I got dressed, craweled into bed and curled up in a ball (on my good hip of course) and tried not to freak out. That's when Bryan came in and asked if everything was OK. Of course everything is not OK, I have a martha freaking Stretch MARK!!!! I balwed, Bryan tried to console, I suddenly flashed to a mental image of it and started to cry harder.
Now I know this is common and I know people will tell me that it's all part of the miracle of having a baby and I say Shove It!! I have officially realized that my body is never going to be the same, that even though i'm putting on weight I can't really do too much about it. Why you ask? Because my baby has decided to migrate northwards and take over the space previously occupied by lungs so when I try to work out, baby laughs and pushes harder and mommy dearest almost passes out from lack of oxygen. I can eat less, sure, but have you ever met a pregnant woman who was hungry, she will happily slather your fingers in peanut butter and eat them as an appetizer before moving onto your child that is starting to resemble an oven roasted turkey. So I must learn to simply deal with it and attempt to drown that evil stretch mark (which I have named Armstrong, get it, like Stretch Armstrong) in the richest creamiest and most deadly lotion known to skin kind.
So this is where i'm at in my pregnancy, a stretch mark that is beginning to take on a personality of its own and mental fantasies of slathering small children in BBQ sauce and eating them whole. Pray for me.