This post is part of the Just Write link-up, a weekly exercise in free writing ordinary and extra-ordinary moments.
I swear I felt cute when I put this outfit together.
I was so proud of myself- a new pair of shoes, but no other money spent for an outfit I felt good in. This is big news when your belly is huge, still growing, but likely to deflate (at least a little bit!) in just a few weeks.
Every trip to the bathroom reminds me of my expanded butt, thighs, and arms. That's a lot of reminders.
"Everyone" says I'm "all belly," but it isn't true. I am bigger- and not just in my belly. Perhaps I just look that much better in my preferred uniform of choice- a long tank top and a pair of jeans.
It doesn't matter. My bigger body parts are preparation- for cuddling, for lots of sitting, or "lifting with my legs!"
But tonight I am at a wedding.
The band is good. I'm not too picky about what I choose to dance to. I just want a song that's movable.
But this band is good. I find myself resigning to an evening of pulling my fun from watching people I love dance. It's too loud to have a good conversation. That's ok. The music is that good.
I am this big. I'm not really supposed to be on the dance floor. My back and feet probably hurt too much to enjoy it anyway. My husband will find other people to dance with- we are at a family wedding, so we know many of the dancers. Maybe we will get a slow dance or two in.
I am feeling a little boxed in, but I am resigning, trying to soak up the music anyway, swaying in my chair.
My husband turns to me.
"Do you want to dance?"
I dance as much as I can.
I smile and laugh a lot.
Maybe I am beaming.
I am rescued.