I'm afraid that the constant pregnancy hunger has officially started. I eat until I'm no longer hungry (cause eating until I'm full is just plain uncomfortable these days). Five minutes later, I'm hungry again. I mean, really hungry.
I'm afraid that one of these days the hormones will get the best of me and I will actually say out loud what I am thinking to those who overstep their boundaries and annoy me. Regardless of who that person is and how it may effect my future with them.
I'm afraid that the baby will come long before I get all this laundry put away. I'm not even counting what hasn't been cleaned yet.
I'm afraid of September. September scares me to pieces. Surprisingly, the brand new baby concept of September scares me the least. Being in 30 million places at once with a brand new baby, raging hormones and a worn out body stresses me out to no end.
I'm afraid that my stomach is going to be so large this summer that I will fall over just by standing still. Not really, but I can imagine it happening, in the cartoon world anyway. It already feels huge, and it's just started.
I'm afraid I will never be able to get this, this, or this. But I can't wait for Miss O to have a cousin that may end up looking just like her (especially since she looks like her Aunt La-la).