My Body is Not My Own: Reality Setting In

At the 12 week mark, it was very clear to me that my body was quickly changing. Bye bye skinny jeans and pencil skirts, hello elastic waistbands. Along with my expanding waistline, my skin had reverted back to the age of 15 with pimples, and my hair seemed to jump to age 50 with the amount of grays that were quickly sprouting. However, I convinced myself that I was the only one who was noticing – that was until one fateful day at the Target Photo Center. As I picked up my wedding thank-you photo cards, I took one out of the box to make sure it looked good before I paid. The clerk took a glance at the photo too, and said sweetly, “The bride is so pretty! Who is she?” to which I responded, “Thanks! It’s me!” The clerk giggled a little as if I were joking and then proceeded to say, “No really… is that your younger sister?” It was like she had slapped me in the face – I was in complete shock! I ran immediately to look for low-ammonia hair dye and the strongest facewash I could get my hands on. This was going to be a long 40 weeks!