Delusions

I like to live in a lovely world of rose-tinted fantasy when it comes to my appearance. Some call it a healthy self-esteem. I call it well-honed denial.

This denial is my trusty friend and keeps me warm at night until, inevitably, I get sucker-punched in the face by the cold fists of reality.

Three years ago, I knew I was gaining a little weight, but I kept saying it wasn't too bad since I could still squeeze myself into the 1 pair of pants that still "fit."

That was until I came across a photo--hanging in PUBLIC--of me shoving a taco in my mouth and looking like Godzilla who just devoured one city and was now on the hunt for more food.

It was that bad...actually, it was worse. And so I promptly went on a diet so I could once again look like a woman and not a giant overgrown lizard beast.

I've been feeling really good about myself lately. Gaining weight for sure, but clearly a reasonable amount since the doctors haven't said anything to me, my initial maternity clothes still fit and I don't have any smaller pregnant people orbiting around me.

This weekend, we fled from doing anything baby-related because it's not like that's AROUND THE CORNER OR ANYTHING vacationed in Asheville with Michael's family. And I packed all my cute summer maternity clothes since I knew there would be cameras galore.

And boy was I ready! Hair did. Makeup donned. Ready to face each day.

Before I left the hotel room each morning, I would do a little assessment and pranced out of the room, like so (click to enlarge):

Then I would walk around--in public--and allow photos to be taken of me. Because DAMN! I make pregnancy look good.

Sigh.

As is likely to happen during lulls and waiting times, people begin to scroll through the photos taken throughout the trip.

Michael was doing so before dinner one day, when he began to choke on his cocktail. Once he regained his composure, he looked at me with all the pity in the world swimming in his eyes and simply said, "Oh babe...this puts the taco photo to shame."

"Delete it immediately."

Then because I couldn't stand not knowing, I snatched the camera from his hands.

This was not the cute, pregnant woman in the mirror of the hotel room. This was a hippopotamus with lipstick on ready to steamroller over anyone in her way. And probably some innocent bystanders as well.

Seeing that a meltdown was imminent, Michael went to the only excuse he could muster up, "It's just a bad camera angle."

"Which angle is that? The one where it's pointed at me and I'm in the picture???"