Yesterday, I went to the grocery store and bought myself a jar of pickles. It was the only item in my cart. And I felt like the quintessential preggo-stereotype.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was a spotlight shining directly on the jar-in-question as I tried to fast-and-furious my way through the check-out line. It bothered me.
Probably because I don’t like to conform.
A seemingly polarizing notion. Cute? Uncomely? As a ginger, I have more than my fair share of ‘em. And my feelings about them have pendulated over the years.
But do you know what kind of freckles I have ever-supported?
The countdown in on. Two weeks left to go.
Entering into my 39th week of pregnancy, I have been reflecting on my choices and actions from the past 8-1/2 months. And I must admit, I’ve been a pretty good girl.