Adding Insult To Injury

Last night in bed, each time I attempted a groan-filled, pubic-bone-popping rollover from one side to the other, I felt a not-so-gentle slapping on my face.  It was as though someone was taking a large bag filled with watery bread dough and whapping the side of my chin with it.  Given that there is a fair amount of wiggling and jostling that happens, there were five or six slaps involved with each roll.  It wasn't until early morning that I finally clued in as to what was happening.

I am, by no means, a skinny minnie.  The only word there is to describe me is fat.  I've accepted that.  Being a fatty means that I have "ample bosoms".  I should also point out that there are many nights when I sleep sans pajamas (at the very most, I will wear a tank top which, as any of my heavy sisters know, does nothing to keep "the girls" reined in).  In my attempts to roll over, my boobs (which have grown even larger since they've started filling up with milk in preparation for Baby and are already leaking) somehow managed to crawl backwards up my chest, which resulted in the late-night smackfest.  

Pregnancy is awesome.

All I can say is thank god I wasn't laying on my back when my boobs decided to carry out their attack.  Otherwise, there's a good chance they would have crushed my windpipe and killed me in my sleep.