Sisterhood of the Knowing Glances (or Sisterhood of the Pilling Pantses)

Now that I'm quite obviously big and pregnant and am in no way trying to hide it (complete with waddle and belly rubbing), I notice women giving me the funniest looks--sort of "I've been there, honey" kind of looks. I don't think that I look uncomfortable or miserable, but I keep catching women giving me sympathetic smiles and winks. I find it rather amusing.

A couple of weeks ago, (actually, the day that we made the flying trip to Babies R Us to get the car seat, et al) we stopped by Lowe's on the way home. I'd already been on my feet, walking around for the past couple of hours, so I was getting really tired and "Braxton-Hicks-y" (which is a phrase that I've coined during this pregnancy). Kevin was in the power tool department, scrutinizing the difference between a hydrofluoric screwing tong and a rotating pie crust spreader, (or something like that) when I got sort of faint-feeling and knew that I needed to sit down. Now, you have to visualize what I look like on any given day--especially on a weekend day: All of my maternity tops at this point, are stained into oblivion, possibly torn somewhere and stretched out in the belly area--assuming that they still stretch OVER said belly area. The bottom-half of my body is usually clothed in some sort of sweat pant-type of pant, that's probably stained too and pilled in the crotch-area from my thighs rubbing together. My hair is limp, greasy and in dire need of a color touch-up and a cut (note to self: make hair appointment THIS week and possibly pedicure appointment too 'cause who the heck knows when I'll get a chance to go to a salon after the baby is born). Anyway, I'm probably not the picture of a glowy, child-bearer, goddess-type at this point in the pregnancy. So, I waddle outside at Lowe's to sit in one of the porch swings that they have set up near the entrance. Just sitting there for the next 20 min or so, I got probably 35 of those "looks" from women. It was funny and sort of sweet at the same time. It's like I've joined a sisterhood of women who've forged the trail on which I waddle.