Baby Fat

"Cake?! What cake?!"

Ay-yai-yai... The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

Olive and a mini Sprinkles cupcake.

Gone in 60 seconds.

I love my baby girls - the entertaining lunatic pictured above (Olive) as well as the one who's currently incubating in my rapidly growing belly (Quinn). I am so unbelievably grateful for their presence in my life and truly can't imagine an existence without them. Life is very good, and I really shouldn't complain.

With that said...

I am having a really hard time accepting, let alone embracing, what's become of my face and body this second time around the block. Only 27 weeks into my pregnancy, I am feeling as large as I felt when pregnant with Olive at 41 weeks. My belly, as expected, is massive. It's the presidential suite of wombs! But my cheeks? Both face and ass are already huge. My already small eyes are looking smaller by the day on my pudgy face, and to make matters worse, pregnancy hormones are causing hyperpigmentation of my skin, resulting in freckles and dark spots appearing on my fat face that weren't there before. I don't consider myself a vain person, but I am a visual person, and what I see in my reflection is saddening. I don't feel pretty.

I want to be as confident and effortlessly hot as the mothers profiled on The Glow and other tastemakers' blogs, but my protruding navel, belly fuzz, National Geographic nipples, neck rolls and ooh, custard thighs have me feeling like a high-speed bullet train headed for Ugly Town. And I can't stop the ride...

According to my physician, I'm physically fine. (A relief to hear.)
So I'm supposed to be this ugly?!

The light at the end of my tunnel is knowing that I'll soon be cradling TWO baby girls in my arms. Double the crazy. Double the fun. What's a little baby fat in the meantime, yeah?

My little weirdo and her cousin, Aiden cheesing it up at Disneyland earlier today.

She makes me smile.