Wednesday, June 16, 2010

Stretch Armstrong

Okay, back to complaining. My stomach feels like an expanding balloon, like the skin is just being pulled out. I don’t remember much about Stretch Armstrong (it looks like his biggest asset is you can pull him every which way without ripping him—fun) but the name really comes to mind. I am beginning to understand growing pains, which my poor brother had so badly in 6th and 7th grade he hasn’t grown since (and he’s 6’1”!). My joints are achy, I’m a bit off balance, and again, the skin, oh the skin. I’m trying to lotion the heck out of it basically anytime I pass a bottle of lotion. I suppose I could drink more water too; I’m already dehydrated simply from living at altitude (just outside the Mile High City, woopie).

I’m not sure if this sensation bodes poorly for stretch marks—like just about every other symptom those are supposed to be genetic. I can’t say I’ve seen my mum’s stomach too many times, but she seems to be lucky in most everything else so I’ll hope DNA is on my side. I’m also researching things (aka procrastinating) like Mama Bees Burts Bees Belly Butter or something alliteration-y like that. Probably I’ll buy some because it probably smells like milk and honey which is divine.

No comments:

Post a Comment