Generally, when Ryan takes his late morning nap, I take one right along with him. But with yesterday’s heat and our pool being open, I decided to eschew a nap and go for a swim. I boldly donned my bikini (warning my neighbors to avert their eyes) and went in the pool.
If I could, I would magically give every pregnant woman in the world access to a warm swimming pool. There is nothing more perfect for erasing almost all the woes of pregnancy. The buoyancy of the water gets rid of that “can’t get comfortable” feeling, the perfect temperature erases the too-hot-too-cold-hormonal-temperature thing, the warmth soothes puffy fingers and ankles and achy muscles, the quiet lapping of the water against the side of the pool calms the crazy mood swings, and the water itself hides the resemblance to a beached whale.
I will admit that I don’t particularly suffer from the latter symptom. Of all my pregnancy woes (and they are legion – ask my poor husband), one that has never been an issue for me is body image. My non-pregnancy figure is naturally relatively slender; in fact, my figure has generously been called “boyish”. In other words, I’m kind of flat-chested, with hips that don’t look curvy relative to my thick waist. So pregnancy gives me the great boobs I’ve always wanted, and a big baby belly (combined with that late-pregnancy sway) gives my hips the illusion of being curvy and voluptuous. Plus one fringe benefit of being so sick at the beginning of this pregnancy is that I lost ten pounds in the first two months, mostly from my thighs (woot woot!), so my biggest problem area is more slender than usual. I have never felt as sexy and beautiful as I do when I’m pregnant.
But I will also admit that a pregnant woman in a bikini, although not exactly unattractive in some ways, just looks goofy. Pregnancy, in my mind, is the anatomical equivalent of a mullet: in theory, very practical; in practice, kind of silly-looking. But pop that bikini under the surface of a swimming pool and no-one else needs to know about the silliness.
So for thirty whole minutes yesterday afternoon, I escaped from my pregnancy woes in my private aquatic nirvana. Even the birds cooperated: the chickadees sang me their love calls, the blue jays chattered socially instead of scolding, the cardinal came for a visit and wolf-whistled at me, and the mourning doves stopped by to coo their approval. I think I might just need to spend every nap time in my backyard haven. Just don’t peek over the fence before I get into the water!