Or, BellyWatch #3. Twenty weeks, Internets. Halfway home! The ultrasound is on Friday, so The Targo and I will finally be able to see Peanut.
This photo couldn't be much more embarrassing. Well, maybe if you could see the chocolate milk I spilled on myself just moments before. I have to say that, Yes, I'm overweight, but the gut? That's allll Peanut. The booty? That's all mine!
We just got home from our fabulous trip to St. Louis. (We had an awesome time and I love that city so much. I have a couple pictures and I'll tell you about it later.) The first thing I did, besides feed the Grand Canyon sized pit in my stomach, was make a complete jerk of myself. We have new neighbors, who seem so super nice. They introduced themselves to The Targo and me like we could be great friends. And here's what happened:
Neighbors: We're so nice. You're going to love having us downstairs. We rock. [possibly slightly paraphrased.]
Me, before I even said hello: I have to warn you that we're having a baby in January. I just feel the need to disclose that because it might be noisy. [definitely paraphrased to appear less ass-ish.]
Neighbors: Oh. *crestfallen* Well, we won't be partying it up or anything. We're really responsible, nice people. [only a wee bit paraphrased to appear less hurt and offended]
Me: *stupid dumb stare*
The neighbors tried to politely change the subject.
Me: Omigod. What I meant is that it might be loud upstairs with a newborn. I just wanted to warn you. I wasn't worried about us.
Although I desperately tried to hide under our about-to-collapse porch, nothing seemed to end this awkward interaction. When The Targo managed to excuse us, I started freaking out. What's wrong with me, people? I just wanted to say "Hi! It's so nice to meet you" and I ended up sounding like an old lady warning the young whippersnappers about making noise. Someone put me out of my misery? Please?