The Baby Is the Size of an Avocado (I'm the Size of a House)

So apparently I’m that girl now. The girl who does weekly bump photos and posts them on the internet for strangers to see. I swore I wouldn’t be, but here we are at 20 weeks and Marcus is positioning me next to the kitchen island like I’m some kind of maternity model.

The Baby Is the Size of an Avocado (I’m the Size of a House)

The baby is supposedly the size of an avocado this week, which seems impossible considering I feel like I’ve swallowed a whole grocery store. Marcus keeps telling me I’m glowing and beautiful, which is sweet, but I caught a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror this morning and definitely thought “basketball smuggling operation.”

When I told him this, he didn’t miss a beat: “Well, it’s a really beautiful basketball.” This is why I’m keeping him, people. Even when I feel like a walking advertisement for elastic waistbands, he makes me feel like I’m carrying the most gorgeous spherical object known to mankind.

Next week: apparently the baby will be the size of a banana. I’m afraid to see what fruit I’ll resemble by then.