It's been brewing for a while, but there's no longer any doubt that I'm part of the big fat pregnant ladies club. My waist, such as it was, has officially taken a leave of absence, perhaps never to return. I now have a small but noticable shelf under my bossom on which to rest my drink. Very handy.
And it's strange, but for all the concerns over getting fat (never been as high on my list as it should have been I'm afraid to say) I am actually enormously relieved to be showing at last. The lingering doubt after our miscarriage is somewhat dispelled by the clear evidence of the baby's growth. And I can give penetrating stares to people who won't give me a seat on the tram when I am tired and grumpy. Which is most of the time.
Now I can await the down sides of club membership - public ownership and the right to comment on every aspect of me, my life, my choices, my physical appearance, and the right to question me about matters intimate. You can bet your pants I'll be letting off a little steam about that in coming months.
Oh and I joined another club today.
And before anyone jumps in to tell me I've bought obsolete technology, I know and I don't care. I've wasted a good year of potential Gocco-ing because I didn't want to get stuck with a tool I couldn't maintain. The whole silk screen kit I was given as a substitute has languished for 9 months because I just don't have space for a new complicated skill. Especially a messy space consuming one.
Instead I've decided to (a) recognise all technology has a limited shelf life and (b) trust that the future and the millions of die hard Gocco users out there are sufficient to create a market for someone to work out another way to keep Gocco alive.
Now I just have to work out how to use the sucker...