Today I was walking to the metro and a guy who walked passed me called me sexy. I, of course, knew what he was talking about. And because he didn’t look like a thug or bum I actually smiled inside.
They say that after the survival of the first trimester, and in my case, the constant progesterone poisoning, vomiting, body aches, and never ending fatigue, I would come to see the light in the form of an inner glow that would stop passersby dead on their tracks. Hard to imagine that after feeling so sick and unpregnant there could be a period of respite and poise, where sex dreams are possible again and putting makeup is back on your daily tasks.
I told my husband I had noticed men staring lately. Can they see the glow? Maybe. Thanks to high progesterone levels, more blood is pumping through my veins, and my oil glands are in over drive contributing to that healthy glow. But I call it ripeness. I have now gained six pounds and in the present world of skinny bitches wearing the same outfits of leggings, boots and scarves, and looking like they burst out from a Vogue factory, ripeness is feminine, fresh and sensual. But like everything, this is a fleeting period, a chance to get your bearings, feel the joy and spread the love your are harvesting inside you because then comes the stretch marks, the constipation and insomnia unlimited.
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