Rule # 13: It's Strong Enough for a Man, But Made for a Woman's Thighs

I love when people tell me that, from behind, you can't even tell I'm pregnant. That I definitely only look like I've gained weight in my belly.

Then when I think about it, who does look pregnant from behind? What's that even mean? That I don't have a round hump appearing below my tramp stamp, stretching out its Chinese characters to look like a toddler's attempts at coloring on the living room wall? Thank God for that.

And if I look like I haven't gained weight anywhere other than my belly, Criss Angel should be asking me for trick tips. I mean, obviously the belly gets bigger. And rounder. And feels like a soccer ball has been shoved up your wahoo to rest right below your lungs, so that any normal bending requires the focus of a deep sea diver with low levels of oxygen. Not to mention that, almost 26 weeks in, I'm beginning to notice the feeling that my skin is stretching. Like, I can literally feel it as its happening (or so my Mego Prego brain imagines). It's like a balloon that's been blown up just a tad too far...that's been shoved up your wahoo to rest under your damn lungs. Or like you just ate the largest burrito in your life and all of the gas exhaled by those beans is rolling around inside and refusing to come out. I feel puffy.

I'm that kid from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory that ate a blueberry she shouldn't have and bloated up into a rolly-polly ball.

That's not the only part of me that has expanded, however. Sadly, the thighs are a-thundering.

Now, in my previous life, I used to say that my thighs were chafing. But it wasn't until I actually began procreating life that I discovered the true meaning of the burning, itching, aching, rash-like phenomenon that transpires when sweaty thigh rubs against sweaty thigh for far too long underneath a maternity dress on a hot summer day.

While breaking Good Pregnant Woman form and whining to a friend about this problem, I was given a tip. And I consider this friend of mine to be a savior.

Want to know the secret to stopping the childbearing chafe?

Secret.

That's right. Rub some good ol' deoderant on your inside thighs and waddle away, ladies. No rash. No irritated bumpy pores. Just clean, fresh smelling, glide-worthy legs at your service.

Don't necessarily take to heart everything you are told to rub your body down in, though. I've also been told to lather myself up every night with Crisco shortening to prevent stretch marks.

Takes the phrase "a bun in the oven" to a whole new baking level if you ask me.

So I'm going to stay out of the kitchen shelves and stick to raiding the bathroom medicine cabinet for remedies awhile. Now if only something could pop the pressure in my bloated bump. Even my belly button can't handle it anymore...