It was easy to lie to strangers. Jamie would smile and say the baby was due next month. Really though, the baby had arrived hale and hardy seven weeks earlier, and to everyone else who knew this fact, she was forced to admit that she was simply getting fat.
Wait, simply was the wrong word. There were many factors at play contributing to her rapid gain. Eating for two had certainly packed on some pregnancy pounds (which was expected and healthy). However, breastfeeding had thrown wide her hormonal floodgates, triggering an astronomical accumulation of mammary mass (which dumbfounded doctors and delighted both spouse and baby, who was extremely well fed). This buildup was fueled by irrational food cravings (which only grew more bizarre and urgent as time went on). And the aforementioned cravings were facilitated by her helpful husband, who acted as a twenty-four hour grocery getter and take-out telephone directory (which was always appreciated, just less so whenever Jamie discovered she outgrew an article of maternity clothing). Added to all of this was how caring for a newborn left her with no time or energy to exercise (which she felt was an excellent excuse).
It was just tragic how formulating excuses for inaction didn't burn enough calories to offset say, an hour of TV spent with a salad bowl full of brownies a la mode. No, she was going to have to do this the old fashioned way. She arranged some uninterrupted workout time with her husband, and bought some spandex that should fit from the big and tall store. Her heart rate was up and she was sweating in no time. Unfortunately, that was just from wrestling on the shorts.
The sports bra didn't seem to be any sturdier than her pink top. She took an exploratory hop and found the gray garment provided all the support of a pair of elasticized pillow cases. Jamie ran her finger down the spines of aerobic DVDs until she found something low impact.
When she got going it felt pretty good: feeling the burn, maxing the zone, and so forth. Then she caught sight of her Buddha belly and stopped. Wow, it really was catching up to her boobs in size. Her gaze shifted to the plateau of pink in front of her; that was no small feat! All of a sudden the five pound dumbbells in her hands felt like ridiculous token gestures.
They also seemed far heavier. The instructor on the TV wanted her to continue the mindless exertions, but she wanted it quit. It would be far easier, and there was a Tupperware container of baked ziti calling to her from the fridge that would reheat awesomely.
She put the weights down and bent over to get up. Seeing the trio of rounded objects squished in front of her made something in her mind click, allowed her to finally decipher the meaning of her husband's new nickname for her: Total Recall. Oh hell no. She sat back down and pumped the dumbbells above her head at a fierce pace.
Her cleavage in her sport's bra seems to stop inside the bra, but her boobs go down farther. Are her boobs so big they popped out from the bra and go beyond? Or is this just an artist's error?
Her boobs are flowing down and around her belly. Her top and sports bra are stretched at the midpoint where the two breasts diverge from each other. I guess I'm not seeing the problem.
Gawd! This is another one of those in which I can sympathize with so easily! Make her hair brown with a bit of gray, splatter her with a few freckles, and loose the ponytail ... and it could be me. :)
Every time I open your page, I hope to see a girl with glasses, Glasses or no, I'm never dissapointed, but your glasses girls have an extra cuteness. Great!
I love the attention to detail in this image. The hands are a little funky, but hey, I'm not really looking at her hands anyway. ;-) The would-be lap-filling boobs are awesome, and the belly is cute too. Great job.
"Total Recall" in the sense she looks like she has three boobs, or in the sense that at any given morning now she might wake up with a Marlon Brando lookalike on her chest?
Which, oddly enough, brings me to my next question: Is there any multiboob stuff in the Pipeline? :3 Or is that perhaps a bit too "weird" for most?
That would be (A), SirJimmy. The Quatto option is too horrible to contemplate, but multiboob stuff isn't. In fact, I almost broached the subject during my cowgirl spree. Who knows?
Wait, simply was the wrong word. There were many factors at play contributing to her rapid gain. Eating for two had certainly packed on some pregnancy pounds (which was expected and healthy). However, breastfeeding had thrown wide her hormonal floodgates, triggering an astronomical accumulation of mammary mass (which dumbfounded doctors and delighted both spouse and baby, who was extremely well fed). This buildup was fueled by irrational food cravings (which only grew more bizarre and urgent as time went on). And the aforementioned cravings were facilitated by her helpful husband, who acted as a twenty-four hour grocery getter and take-out telephone directory (which was always appreciated, just less so whenever Jamie discovered she outgrew an article of maternity clothing). Added to all of this was how caring for a newborn left her with no time or energy to exercise (which she felt was an excellent excuse).
It was just tragic how formulating excuses for inaction didn't burn enough calories to offset say, an hour of TV spent with a salad bowl full of brownies a la mode. No, she was going to have to do this the old fashioned way. She arranged some uninterrupted workout time with her husband, and bought some spandex that should fit from the big and tall store. Her heart rate was up and she was sweating in no time. Unfortunately, that was just from wrestling on the shorts.
The sports bra didn't seem to be any sturdier than her pink top. She took an exploratory hop and found the gray garment provided all the support of a pair of elasticized pillow cases. Jamie ran her finger down the spines of aerobic DVDs until she found something low impact.
When she got going it felt pretty good: feeling the burn, maxing the zone, and so forth. Then she caught sight of her Buddha belly and stopped. Wow, it really was catching up to her boobs in size. Her gaze shifted to the plateau of pink in front of her; that was no small feat! All of a sudden the five pound dumbbells in her hands felt like ridiculous token gestures.
They also seemed far heavier. The instructor on the TV wanted her to continue the mindless exertions, but she wanted it quit. It would be far easier, and there was a Tupperware container of baked ziti calling to her from the fridge that would reheat awesomely.
She put the weights down and bent over to get up. Seeing the trio of rounded objects squished in front of her made something in her mind click, allowed her to finally decipher the meaning of her husband's new nickname for her: Total Recall. Oh hell no. She sat back down and pumped the dumbbells above her head at a fierce pace.
"One, two, three, four! One, two, three, four!"