I'm standing in the dressing room, eying my bikini-clad body (had to get a larger top, for, um, quite obvious reasons), and I notice that my hips are a bit fleshier than normal.
Uh oh, I think, because I am conditioned to react that way to any squishifying of my form. I purse my lips and poke the hip in a judgmental manner, making a brief mental catalog of what I've been eating lately.
No, wait, pipes up a different part of my brain. We need to adjust our reactions to the changes in our body. We need to see them in the context of the pregnancy, now. It's time for a new standard of physical expression of health.
New standard. Right. I take a deep breath and smile at the fleshiness. It's a sign of better things to come.
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