Inverse proportionality

I hit the 20-week mark with the SharkBean this week. (That's halfway, for everyone who has never been pregnant.) I am *thrilled*. She looks less carcharias, and more homo sapien. I can feel her practicing krav maga. This is really happening. It's pretty exciting.

I'm definitely, exclusively in maternity clothes. Mom informed me that I have "popped", though I don't look pregnant enough to have the young men at the grocery store offer extra help yet.

It's is a pity, since I can't wear any of my normal "good service" attire, curse you uncomfortable-yet-effective spike heels! Most of my regular clothes are in storage, since there is ZERO chance I'll be wearing them for a while. Mom also may have suggested SHROUDING my beautiful pumps so that they don't get dusty. It breaks my heart, but she might be right. (She usually is.)

That's totally okay, maternity clothes fit either like (a) pajamas or (b) being naked. Elastic-waisted pants and maxi-dresses, where have you BEEN all of my life?!

My dad asked how I was feeling, and I told him that I felt big, meaning, it feels crowded from my ribs down to my hips. I'm putting on my shoes by sitting and putting my foot up next to me (thanks, yoga!), as opposed to just bending over, or squatting and bending over like I normally used to do.

My dad thought I was concerned about weight gain, and hurriedly told me - ME, the kid who hasn't ever had body image issues - that it's okay to be big when you're pregnant, it's a good thing, etc. Love his heart- how many fathers try to tackle body image issues head-on, instead of glossing over them and hoping everything turns out okay?

My dad. He took a very "shut it down" approach- quick, and clear. It wasn't necessary, but as a Future Parent and Aspiring Grown-Up, I appreciated it.

I told him I didn't care about the weight gain, but that it's getting hard to do simple things like put on my shoes. Or sit comfortably on the couch without the assistance of a mountain of strategically placed pillows. I actually heard his sigh of relief at my *very normal* complaints.

[NOTE TO ANDREW: Apparently, we will NEVER, EVER, EVER be able to stop worrying about SharkBean. Why didn't anyone WARN us?!]

As a woman, I'm totally okay with getting bigger. Circle of life, phases of the moon and all that. Also, the spectacular boobage. I'm totally sold.

As a knitter, things are more complicated.

I have two sweaters worth of handspun waiting to be cast on. For two fitted sweaters. I have a few UFO bins full of half-finished projects. Also fitted. My tastes run to tailored clothing, and I'm caught in the I-don't-know-how-my-weight-will-settle-out place. Weigh that against my mother's sage advice, "Knit for the body you have, not the body that you *want* to have."

The body I have is changing, week by week. What is a knitter to do?

I came to the solution, finally.

Knit something small. Knit something that doesn't depend on *your* size. I can go on a binge finishing old lace projects. A lace wrap will always fit! That gold Icarus I started five years ago? Will look AMAZING on me, regardless of my size.

I think it's funny how inversely proportional this whole thing is; as I get bigger, my knitting gets smaller.

But, first things first. My oldest friend in the world, Joey, is going to be a dad ANY MINUTE. So last night, some yarn was wound, a tiny sweater was selected, and I am quickly reminded of how incredibly fun (and fast!) it is to knit for small people.

Especially if they happen to be Sharks fans. Now, to find the perfect buttons...

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