Chippie seems to have seriously grown in this last week.
No longer can I bend. I haven’t seen my toes for months, so won’t comment on that. But I do seem to be knocking more things off tables with my belly than ever before.
People are commenting – as, apparently, they must – on how “HUGE” I am. Along the lines of “My god your HUGE!” and other, ever so heartwarming and compassionate comments.
Others, however, are commenting that I’m not big at all. A “neat little package” – whatever the hell that means.
Mind you, whilst I may not be big all over, I have one decent sized belly on me. When I lay on my back, I am suddenly surrounded by Sherpas, and a team of mountaineers, complete with oxygen tanks, hoping to make it to base camp before sundown.
The inability to bend, however, has been my biggest impediment. But only in the shoe tying up department. And the obnoxious older child department, where he consistently asks me to tie his shoes, despite his ability over the last two years to do just that.
And, where he asks me, publicly, to tie his shoe lace up for him, where I declare, yet again, that I am unable to bend to do just that.
“Well,” he intones. “Perhaps you shouldn’t have sex then!”
Hmm, and perhaps you should act your age!