Beep Beep! Comin Through

It's official. I'm not small anymore. I never EVER thought of myself as a skinny girl. But with this new watermelon under my shirt, I long for the days I constantly felt "fat." I promise to the pregnancy gods that if they just restore my body to its previous state it was in prior to getting knocked up, I'll never curse again (Another thing I'm working on with McBaby's arrival coming in less than 4 months). I mean, I've been taking more Bar Method classes than I did in preparation for my wedding, so if that doesn't help the postpartum shrinking process, then I don't know what will.

The problem with gaining steadily in the weight department each week is that I honestly still have no idea how big I am. That is, until I knock into things with my stomach. The other day, I was able to accidentally keep the refridgerator door ajar with my protruding belly while stocking it with groceries without even meaning to.

I also got stuck in between two strangers' chairs at a restaurant the other night because I could have sworn I'd be able to squeeze in between them. Needless to say, it's a little embarrassing to ask not one, but two people to please scoot in because no matter how hard to suck in, you're not getting any smaller.

It's not like I'm massive or anything. I've gained around 12 pounds total, which isn't even that much considering I'm more than halfway there. But in my mind, I'm still my old size, which makes it all the more hard to admit to needing help off the couch, or assistance rolling over in bed (true story-happens multiple times a night). The other day I got down to demonstrate an ab routine for my Bar Method clients, and not only looked like I was actually giving birth while doing it, but let out a "heave ho" when getting back up, and proceeded to pant for the next minute straight. On another occasion I attempted to show the "perfect push-up" form, only to fall flat on my poor fetus during the failed demo.

Fact of the matter is, no matter how much I'd prefer to stay at the cute 20-week belly stage, it's come and gone, and I'm chugging closer and closer to the 40 mark, large and in charge. I made a promise to myself early on in my pregnancy that I would not waddle no matter how gigantic I got, and that I would not succumb to the comfort and convenience of a muumuu in my last weeks.

I may trash the Kardashian family on a regular basis, but Kourtney definitely knew what she was doing in the maternity style department. And I intend on trying for as long as I can fit...

Babies In Cocoons

I have a major problem. Besides Pinterest and buying everything off Zulilly, I cannot stop google imaging ridiculous phrases like "babies in cocoons" and "crocheted animal hats for babies." Basically I've decided to spend my lunch hours at work doing art direction on my unborn infant's first photo shoot of his life.

A friend of mine who just had her #2 stressed to me the importance of staging said shoot in the first week the baby's home because of how much newborns sleep that week, and referred to it as a "smushy pic" shoot. I tried talking about this another mom who looked at me like I had 3 eyes when I used the term. But I'm sticking to it. What happens is the photographer puts the baby in these insanely cute positions like placing his chin on his hands as if pondering some deep life moment. See here if you're still confused.

I've decided that McBaby's smushy pic shoot is going to be very nature-inspired. I already instructed my mom to start crocheting the crap out of cocoons made of any soft wool she could get her hands on, telling her to think nests, nature, birds, etc. when designing them. I'm thinking edgy Anne Geddes meets Annie Leibovitz for Vogue.

And I'd like to thank those babies I don't know in the pics for providing an insane amount of inspiration for McBaby's first photo shoot. And of course Justin Bieber and God.

Pregnancy Myths and Truths According to Me

When it comes to pregnant chicks, there's a lot of hocus pocus out there. There are the old-wives tales that claim to tell you you're having one gender or another based on things like the heart rate, the way you're carrying, and how bad your prego acne has gotten. (All signs pointed to me having a girl BTW, and my bambino definitely has a penis.) And then there's a bunch of nonsense about what everyone assumes all pregnant women experience during their 9 months of being knocked up.

Here are the five things that have NOT happened to me:

1. Pregnancy glow: I found out I was pregnant in July when I still had a nice summer tan going on. I hoped this alleged dewy beautiful complexion would last the duration of my pregnancy based on the age-old saying, but alas, winter has arrived, my face is just as pasty and uneven as it always is this time of year. I'm going to go ahead and say this "glow" was made up by overweight pregos who tend to overheat after climbing a set of stairs. Glow=you're fat and sweating.

2. 2nd trimester energy: What a load of crap this is. Of course I feel better than that horrendous first 16 weeks, but I'd hardly call what I'm experiencing "energetic." It's just that I've trained myself to push past falling asleep when it's still light out, which has taken months to master. Sometimes I just succumb to the calling of my bed at dusk, but mainly it's that I got sick of missing all my shows and have gotten better at fighting the small knives constantly stabbing at my eyeballs. Energy....MY ASS.

3. Increased hunger: Ya know the saying "old wives' tale"? There should also be one called "fat pregnant womens' lies". I've worked out at least 5 out of the 7 days a week for as long as I can remember, so I've always been someone who eats mini meals throughout the day. That's exactly how I feel while pregnant. I'm working out about half as much, but know my body is working on overdrive to create my little dude--who by the way is only a pound at 22 weeks. My eating habits haven't changed in the slighest since becoming pregnant. So sorry, but claiming to be ravenous for muffins, chocoloate and ice cream while you're pregnant is just a lie--women always want that--knocked up or not. And you're just taking advantage of your situation!

4. Special treatment: I had so many people tell me prior to "showing" that once I popped, people would be opening doors for me, giving me their seats and going out of their way to make me comfortable. Wrong. I've had a few people give me a side semi-smile, as if they're scared to actually say anything to me. The other day, I was at a Verizon Wireless Store waiting in line, and turned around to see at least a dozen people sitting in chairs in the store. I purposely made eye contact with a couple of the a-holes playing with their iPhones, and not one of them offered me their seat. Maybe it's because everyone is scared shitless to offer a pregnant woman a chair, just for her to turn around and scream at them, "I'm NOT pregnant!" Hey--it's probably the most awkward thing you can do, so I'll let it go.

5. Increased sex drive: Yeah-to-the-right. Again, any woman claiming to feel "sexy" and more "horny" during pregnany is L-Y-I-N-G. This is the same kind of woman who would claim she loves dressing up as a naughty nurse for her husband because it's the only way that sick fuck can get off. But in all seriousness, I'm not one of those horrid wives who uses my pregnancy as an excuse not to get down--I'm just super realistic about it--it's not as great. But who really gives a shit? Not me.

Here are 5 things that have happened to me:

1. Huge boobs: Duh. Even girls who usually have mosquito bites for boobies are blessed during this time frame. The only thing that sucks is how much they itch...oh, and the fact that they make even a sensible turtleneck look pornstar-ish.

2. Awesome hair: This could not be more true. My hair is like that chick from Rumplestilzkin right now--golden spun silk. The thing that sucks is that it apparently goes back to its prior suckiness directly after giving birth, AND I heard some women lose some of their hair! Wahhhh.

3. Getting dumber: I have turned into the ditziest mother fucker of all time. The other day I was trying to remember the word "narrate," and described it as "the thing where someone tells a story from a certain perspective." MORON.

4. Uncontrollable shopping: I'm not sure if this is a normal ailment of pregnant women, but I thought I'd include it because of how unbelievable out of control it's gotten. Ever since finding out we're having a boy, I've been nonstop buying, mostly online. I just want him to be the coolest SoCal hipster surfer bowl-cut toehead dude in all the land. Can you really blame me?!

5. Nesting: I finally understand the true meaning of this word. My favorite place in the whole world is home these days. As an example, today I was getting a pedicure, and as she was rubbing my feet, I was checking the clock counting down the minutes til I could get home to just....tidy up. I constantly make neat piles and organize everything and overuse my label maker. Is this what moms do? I may just be crazy.

So this just my take on things....I truly apologize if you really are energetic, fat, glowing, craving tons of sex, and everyone's been giving you their seat.

Huuuuuuuuge Boobs

OMG I must have the biggest (real) boobs ever. I already have pretty big knockers to begin with for my size, and now they're borderline fake-looking. I tried for as long as I could to just wear my normal 34Cs, until my husband caught me changing one day and demanded we go to Victoria's Secret that instant.

I guess you know it's bad when a dude notices your bra isn't even covering half of your nip anymore. I informed him that my VS bras are $50 a pop, and suggested we browse Target's selection before throwing down serious cash on a size I'd only need for a few more months. I found one, and no offense to Gilligan O'Malley, but girlfriend has no business being in the bra marketplace. After 2 hours of wearing it, the hard stitching was itching the crap out of my already-itchy boobs and back, and I was forced to take it off in a restaurant bathroom and throw it away. There's a reason they're only 12 bucks.

So we took a little drive down to Vickie's and I got myself 2 proper bras--my fave--the Dream Angel with no padding, and went up one cup size to a D. And seriously, they're still a little snug. But I have something called pride, and refuse to join the multiple letter club, and shall do anything in my power to keep these boulders a size D til McBaby's birth. Then when he comes out, I know all hope will be lost, and these puppies will turn into sloppy floppy milk dispensers and there's no Dream Angel that can mask that.

Here's a pic of me at 21 weeks with my massive boobies and basketball stomach that is seriously protruding straight out. It doesn't even look real, even to me. Not sure how I should take when strangers ask me how far along I am, and upon response say something like, "Wow, you're reeaaaallly showing!"

Uh....thanks?

It's A....

BOY! We finally found out at exactly 20 weeks that indeed, we're expecting a little boy in April 2012! It's pretty much amazing to know now, and my shopping habit has already spiraled dangerously out of control. I hit up TJ Maxx, Nordy's, Janie and Jack, Neiman's and Babies R Us all within the first 24 hours, and all I'm going to say is that McBaby is going to give Rachel Zoe's kid a run for his money on the number of shoes in his closet.

He looked so freaking cute during the 3D ultrasound (SO crazy to be able to call him a HE now!), and was moving around like a little monkey in there. The tech couldn't even get a good look at his face because of the number of backflips he was doing, and at one point was burying his face into his hands and hiding. He's definitely already got a personality on him! The doctor was able to get the money shot of his little mug after jabbing me repeatedly with the ultrasound wand, which basically made me pee my pants a little. But, seriously...worth it.

Here's the video Kevin and I made to tell everyone the baby's gender. It was the Happiest Thanksgiving yet!

Mr. Kicky Pants

I've been feeling overwhelmingly lately that I'm preggers with a BOY! Which, if you know me, is the exact opposite of what I've been saying it is the whole time. There's just something that keeps screaming BOY to me, even though everyone and their mother insists it's a girl, given what I've been going through.

The latest in my joyous ride of being knocked up is a three-letter word that you pray doesn't ever happen when you're outside the confinement of your home: G-A-S. Let me just tell ya bout my Friday night.

My husband was out of town on a boy's weekend, so I invited my girlfriends over for dinner. Only on the way home, I was struck by the Gas Devil--only problem is that there was no actual air coming out, so it just kept building and building on top of the huge stomach I've already managed to grow. Laugh all you want, you fools! But trust me, there is no gas pain like pregnancy gas pain. My friend Amanda even tried moving my legs the way you do for an infant who's constipated (see photo)! But honestly, it was the GasX that did the trick.

After the pain just just about to go away, I noticed a dog barking outside behind the house and realized hey that's my dog. Sure enough, it was my Jack Russell Oliver being viciously attacked by two raccoons the size of Chuy Bravo (shame on you if you don't know who he is). We all screamed bloody murder for about 5 minutes straight. But when NO neighbors offered to help, we were forced to go in a break up the fight ourselves. All credit is due to Amanda, who bravely yanked Ollie out of the grasp of the fatter coon.

Needless to say, 4 hours of intense gas pain and screaming uncontrollably can't be the best for your fetus, and all I could do was rub my belly and keep apologizing. And I think Mr. Kicky Pants appreciated it, because I felt my first little kick right after. He's given me a few more since too, like after I ate a massive bowl of bean chili, and then yesterday when I finally laid down in bed after hours of shopping. See? Told ya it's a boy!

One week to go til we have confirmation, and I cannot wait! Til then! May the Gas Devil never bear his ugly soul on you....

Let The Registering Begin!

I told myself I was gonna wait to register until I found out the sex of McBaby--but considering I thought I'd know by now, I just couldn't help myself in at least starting it! It all began this past weekend when I dragged Kevin to a store called "The Pampered Tot." We bartered--if he came with me to check out this specific stroller I'd had my eye on, I'd watch the entire Oregon game with him that night.

The stroller that I just had to see in person was the Uppa Baby Vista. And lemme tell ya, this it blew my mind. I'm literally obsessed with it. Not only is it super cute, comes standard with a bassinet and toddler seat, it also has a bassinet stand that later turns into a hamper! And it's cheaper than the Bugaboo, which I never even wanted in the first place.

While I was livin' it up at the PT, the owner told me they do most of their business online, and I could totes register here! I looked into it, and they sell all the fun stuff I want that I can't get somewhere like Babies 'R Us or something--like Serena & Lily bedding and the most amazing stroller in all the land. Score!

I went directly home to begin my registry at PT, and still only have one thing on it--it's a start right??? I was so excited about starting it that I then went right to Babies 'R Us and started one there too!

So this is my life now--blogging about strollers and baby registries. Deal with it!

Coming Out!

I feel like singing at the top of my lungs on my desk right now, "I'm coming out!!!!" But that would only make this day even wilder.

Today, 11/1/11, I told my bosses I was pregnant. It's only taken me 17 weeks and 2 days! Here's how it all went down: My co-worker (and fellow pregger) and I took the girls we work with into the studio so that she could share her big news with them, since she'd been keeping hers a secret. On our way back to the office, we decided it was a better time than any to just be out with it and tell our bosses tag-team style about our double whammy news.

We walked into their office and sat down to tell them we had some news. And then Amanda calmly stated, "Bridget and I are having babies." SO much better than the verbal diarrhea that would have spewed out of my mouth. One of my bosses looked like he'd just walked in on his parents having sex, and the only way to explain the other one's expression is that it screamed of sheer dissatisfaction.

The meeting went as well as could be expected, with a few super awkward moments, like when one boss suggested us doing a live birth on YouTube, and the other one only opening his mouth to ask one single question: "When are you going to start to show?" Answer...."Ummm....now???"

I'm SO relieved to have the news out in the open, but I'm a little anxious for what's next...pretty soon they're going to be wondering what my "plan" is post-baby, and I just have a feeling it'll be different from what they had in mind--what, bringing the baby to work with me isn't cool??? I kid....not really, though.

In other news, we still don't know the sex of McBaby! Stubby McStubbornson decided to have his/her legs crossed the entire ultrasound, despite the fact that he/she was doing some sort of jazz-tap number all the while. We'll have to wait til November 21st (week of Thanksgiving) now, and will be doing our big reveal on Turkey Day! Place your bets now, people!

Pregnancy UN-friendly Job?

I'm just about finished with week 15, and I'm slowly regaining human strength. I've had a few setbacks, like when I thought I was cool enough to eat spicy organic chili, or stay up past 9 one night this week. But a barf session and bedtime at 7PM the next night reminded me of who I really am now.

So in all of my baby books there's a big emphasis on "safety on the job" this week. I'm sure they wrote the chapter with people in mind who work at places like a power plant or on a cranberry farm. But seriously, TV hosting really is a pregnancy UN-friendly occupation. Everyone's favorite thing to tell me is that my situation reminds them of the movie Knocked-Up. Sure, I'm still hiding my pregnancy like Katherine Heigl's character did, but let's remember I don't work at E! or have someone as cool as Kristin Wiig as my boss (even though she was pretty evil in that movie).

My job consists of me having to be on camera for at least 6 of my 8 hours a day at work. So that means a full face of makeup (complete with fake eyelashes and...ugh, lipliner), my hair either blown-out or curled daily, my skin fake tanned, my nails painted, and my wardrobe cute and trendy. Every. Damn. Day. No joke--the one day this year I didn't shoot was because I got a cystic zit on top of my eye that caused it to shut almost completely (thanks pregnancy hormones). And my boss seriously said to me, "It's not that bad. Can't you shoot a couple?"

The first trimester was obvi the worst--I'd puke countless times a day, and one time I was even tempted to retrieve one of my falsies out of the toilet. But then I gathered my dignity and just kept the left set on for the rest of the day. I can't tell you how much MAC Studio Fix Foundation I went through in those three months from constantly reapplying on my tear and snot-streaked cheeks. But now that my barfing sessions have gone down to around one per day and I'm feeling a little more "normal," I'm running into a whole new problem. My pants don't fit, and my bump is showing through on even my flowiest of tops! Guess this is the clearest sign yet that I really need to get my act together and tell my bosses what's going down! #pregnantgirlproblems

I'll leave you with this story though--yesterday I went to cover the behind-the-scenes look at the new All Time Low video, which took place in downtown LA in a huge deserted warehouse where they shoot a ton of movies and TV shows. The shoot took place on the roof. So you'd think with all these shoots taking place here, they'd have a staircase to get to said roof? Wrong. I show up in a short dress and platform heels, only to discover the only way up is via sketchy sketchy sketchball ladder. It was like fire escape-style too. As I ascended, holding half of our production gear for my camera guy, all I could think about was how much my doctor would kill me if she knew I was climbing a rusty ladder to a deserted rooftop where we then scaled several walls to get to the shot.

In closing, I think next week I'll start abiding my pregnancy book's rules to wear "elastic waistband pants" and "flat, soft-soled shoes" to work. But if I'm out of a job by next post, I'll know who to blame...

Quinceañera

Quinceañeras....Have you heard of these? It's when a 15 year-old girl dresses up like a child bride and takes pics on the Santa Monica pier with 80 of her closest family members and friends. At least that's what happens in LA. (reference pic) What does that have to do with my bebeh? Not much, but since McBaby's 15 weeks and I'm still feeling like poo, I'm trying anything to keep a positive frame of mind.

I did decide a few days ago, however, that I'm having a girl. And I have a feeling she's going to be a diva who makes me do things like buy her all the Disney princess outfits with matching lucite kitten heels, and have a peanut allergy. I just know it...I've been talking to her a lot lately too--especially on my long commutes to and from Hollywood, and refer to her as Diva (not to be confused with my mom's old cleaning lady--seriously, that's her REAL name).

The reason I really think it's a GURL is because I feel like no boy would ever do this to me. I've literally become addicted to carbs, I now watch shows like Revenge on the CW, and cry at Colbie Caillat songs on the radio. See? No boy would do that. Also I had a pretty indicative dream last night. I was having one of my typical "I'm best friends with a celebrity" dreams, and this time, my BFF was Kate Middleton. The dream was all about my announcement to the world about how I'm having a girl, but could she please not tell the tabloids or the Queen quite yet. Seriously, I must think I'm really fucking special to dream I'm besties with royalty.

Anyhoo, I've decided I've gotten fat enough to finally be forced into telling my bosses my big secret this week. So wish me luck!!! Until we meet again...

Prego or Just Fat?

Soooo, the 3-and-a-half mark for me has officially arrived, and basically it's what I'm referring to as the Beer Gut Era. I still don't look pregnant to anyone apparently, but I definitely don't look thin in the mid-section area. It's become my first roadblock as far as wearing clothes goes, and I honestly don't know what to put on in the morning!

It's hotter than balls in LA right now, so jeans are sort of out. Plus my beloved J Brands are *this* close to being banished to the skinny pile til further notice anyway. But something inside me refuses to buy maternity quite yet--one reason being the heinous selection everywhere. I mean, what is up with that?! The only cute stuff I've seen is on Asos.com (props to my sis for that) and on Pea in the Pod, whose stuff is way cute, but ridick expensive.

BUT! I did find something amazing at Target today (in the non-maternity section thank you very much), and I have a feeling we're going to be quite close for the next 5 months. It's this super simple long straight maxi skirt by Mossimo. It's only $15, and I'm def going back to get it in every color. Here's my outfit from today at work featuring the charcoal gray color. Cuteness!

So...when's the barfing gonna end again?

I know this is my first post and I should totes be making it super positive, but it just so happens on this lovely Monday that I'm feeling just a tad pukey (per usual) and not really in a YAY mood. It's like this....ok, I'm 14 weeks, and totally feeling like a million bucks compared to the puke fest of months 1.5 thru 3. But I'm still queasy and have major food aversions (meat) and feel like some sort of host body situation with some alien inside me who's never quite satisfied.

Yesterday, my husband Kevin suggested we go grab sandwiches and hit the beach since it's basically summer still here in LA. So I stupidly ordered a turkey sandwich. Lord knows why I did that--I haven't had meat since I found out I was pregnant because the mere thought of animal carcass makes me dry heave these days. But I still ordered it and ate it. Cut to 8 hours later (right around the time this delicious sub is hitting McBaby's sac) and it came right up the way it went down. It was like McBaby took one look at the order and sent it back to the kitchen.

Honestly, I don't blame him/her. The poor kid was probably like, "You've been feeding me straight up carbs and mangos for months, and you think I'm not going to notice this?!" Silly me. Plus, I've been obsessing over Skinny Bitch Bun in the Oven, which, if you've ever read it, will basically turn you vegan in a half hour. So seriously with the turkey sandwich business...

Anyhoo, aside from that, I'm loving being prego. I surprisingly don't miss booze at all, which is awesome seeing as though I really thought I was a wino-holic prior to this sitch. I'm getting slightly fat-ish, but still not enough to look pregnant. I actually can't wait for that. Oh! And we came up with a new girl and boy name this weekend. And no, I don't think we know each other well enough to tel you yet. We'll see....BTW peep my 14 week belly pic!