My sister is very interested in my pregnancy. Not in a way that you’ll think, like: “How are you feeling today?” or “Would you like me to send some good lotion?” or “Is the baby and mother alright?”. No, it’s more like: “How fat are you now?” and “Do you have any stretch marks yet?” and “Where on the whale scale are you now?”

And don’t get me wrong, I love my sister, and she used to be overweight so she knows how it is, and I don’t mind that she loves my weight gain a little too much.

So today we spoke on the phone today, and she asked me again about the stretch marks, which she also did yesterday. And I said, “Noo, I can’t see any, but I’m HUUGE! Seriously huge!” and then I walked past the mirror (and since I just had come home from preggie yoga and my yoga pants were wet from the nasty weather we have now, I was pantless. And then I see them. THE STRETCH MARKS. And I scream for Christian to come, and ask him, if that’s what it is, is that a stretch mark, OMG, can it be true?!!

And he just says: “Nah.” And I just stand there, trying to wrap my eyes around that big belly of mine and look under my belly, and when that doesn’t work, try to check in the mirror again, but I can’t really decide if it’s a stretch mark or just the strange colour of my skin nowadays, but I’m pretty sure it is a stretch mark, and I run to the toilet to find a lotion to rub on.

So there it is. I managed to get 10 kg bigger, 35 weeks into my pregnancy, that’s 245 days(!), until I got a stretch mark.

BOO!

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