Sucking it in

Well, I can officially let my gut do the Homer Simpson thing that it has been dying to do for the past few weeks. The secret is out; I am now officially as pregnant at the office as I am in the rest of the free world. No more avoiding the path past my boss's open door office after lunch time because the chicken salad I ate in a thirty minute sitting has advanced the appearance of my baby belly by about ten weeks. No more non-contributing at meetings because breathing regularly and speaking at the same time might compromise my ability to suck in the monstrous bump that conveniently decided to show up about two months before its two predecessors did during their tenancies. I recently saw a viral picture of a teenage boy with veins popping out of his forehead captioned "Trying not to fart in front of your crush". I laughed out loud, I forwarded, then I gasped and shrunk behind my desk. Oh my God, that's me! Has my boss seen this every time I walk the path to the copy room for the past few weeks? Gross! Quick, I better write up a memorandum and announce myself! It's not gas, it's a baby!
So, here I am. All pregnant and stuff, wondering why I was so terrified to share the news. When I say share the news, I mean exclusively with the big bosses. I work in an office full of southern women. Georgia, South Carolina, North Carolina, West Virginia... I like to think of my coworkers as a real life casting of Steel Magnolias. Every day, I hear the term "heifer" and the phrase "there's more than one way to skin a cat", though the regional drawl that it is delivered by can vary. What began as a conversation about a recommendation for a fertility specialist about a year ago evolved into every single one of these women knowing which doctor I was seeing on which day and which injection I might be receiving depending on the status of my most recent lab results. The day I received the positive pregnancy result, it was a full on tactical blitz to try to reach my husband with the news before they strong armed it out of me. Understand that I am over six feet tall and these women probably don't reach my shoulders. I was still intimidated.  They are nosy, pushy, always in my business, and some of the most genuinely supportive people I have ever worked with. They bring me food a lot now, too.
A side note: I'd like to go find the large, angry woman that didn't think I was pregnant enough to use the "Parking for Expectant Mothers" space at the grocery store last week and tell her that I was sucking it in. Truth be told, I don't think she looked any more pregnant than I did; just crankier about it. Maybe I'd tell her to cheer up, too.