The end of the first trimester looms large. Or, um, beautiful and succulent like a peach, because "looms large" makes it sound like a negative thing.
The second trimester, as everyone knows, is the party trimester. It's the three months when you look like yourself, only hot (hott) and pregnant. It's the three months when you're constantly backlit in flattering sunset tones, when you turn around and people gasp at the unexpectedness of your tiny, perfect belly, and when Perez won't stop blowing up your phone and the pap are hiding in your shrubbery.
You know-- it's the dangerous trimester.
Dangerously awesome.
So as I sit here, trying to find time to schedule all the press junkets and Yogalates, I look forward to looking back on the worn, haggard self of the first trimester with a sigh and a shake of my extensions.
"You poor thing," I shall whisper, sipping my wheat grass. "I blame the thetans."
3 comments:
Umm, so just when is this supposed to start?? I'm at 18 weeks and I haven't noticed any of that yet!
Wendy, your publicist should be contacting you any minute with your PR schedule and the name of your personal stylist. ;'}
Hilarious. Thanks for the laugh...this third trimester mama needed it. :)
Post a Comment