Aren't I Hideous, Boy?

I'm obsessing way too much about things I can't control--all physical stuff. The veins are going to keep bulging. The belly is going to keep growing, as will the backside. I didn't obsess so much when I was younger and pregnant--youth is beautiful.

I've decided I need to do one of two things: take Madam Mim's attitude and be delighted with dumpiness ("Aren't I hideous, Boy?" she asks, hopping around with glee, "Perfectly revolting?"), or decide to embrace the new, improved, aging me. Maybe some combination of the two: I'll remind myself how gorgeous I am on a daily basis, but when my daughters recoil at the sight of my legs and exclaim, "Mom! Your legs are FREAKY!" as they do every evening, I shall thank them in the spirit of Madam Mim.

In other news, the oldest boy grows handsomer, perhaps taller (although he hopes he's done), and cagier every blessed day. He's always been very close-mouthed about his personal life, and even seems to delight in keeping everything a secret from me. Yesterday he strolled past me while I was weeding the cactus garden. "Hello, Mom," he says as he heads up the driveway. My suspicions were immediately aroused, based on his distance from the laptop. "Where are you going?" I want to know. "For a walk," he replies, as if he is in the habit of taking the air on occasion. I request more details, but he only responds he'll be back in five minutes. He does return in five minutes, adding to the mystery by bearing a plate of cookies in his hands. Well, now I know that a girl is involved, but he heads off any nosy questions. "Someone owed me a plate of cookies, Mom. We'll leave it at that."

Confounded boy. Not one detail to ease the mother's curiosity. When I complain of this treatment from time to time, he reassures me that Sadie will be sure and tell all her secrets, like a good girl. Maybe. Unless she keeps me in the dark as well, since she holds her future varicosities against me. (Aren't we hideous, Boy?)