We’re back in DC after our trip to Erie and of course, it’s hotter than a pair of sweatpants full of BBQ. The only respite from the heat seems to be the pool, which thankfully opens tomorrow. I plan to do the same thing I did last time I was pregnant: sport a bikini as long as is socially acceptable — actually, even longer.
It’s not that I have some crazy-hot pregnant body. I. Don’t. At. All. It’s just that maternity bathing suits look so frumpy. Last time around, I wore my regular J Crew bikinis until well into my third trimester. I pretty much looked like a floating Venus of Wilendorf at the pool — I was all boobs and belly. And since we got to the Army Navy pool, we’re like the youngest pool-goers by about 40 years and and by month eight, I started getting a little uncomfortable when all the retired Captains and Admirals looked at me as though I were Shamoo. So I finally opted for the more traditional, belly-covering maternity suits — some of which are so big you feel like a pregnant Druid or a living parachute.
However, for a while there, I really got a kick out of people’s reactions to a girl with a huge belly in a bikini. Twelve and thirteen year old girls were the best. I could pretty much see the disgust dripping off their faces. I remember going to the pool with my friend Kris who was also pregnant and of the mindset that knocked-up bellies are not meant to be hidden. A gaggle of middle school girls watched us as though we were an after-school special preaching the benefits of abstinence. I guarantee we convinced all of them to remain virgins for as long as humanly possible.
I’ll spare you the picture on this one…