I wish I could kidnap every tired pregnant woman who’s slaving away at the office (or home) trying to finish up that last project when she’s eight or nine months along (or anybody who’s stuck in super cold weather and hating it) and ship her out to my beach where it’s 75 degrees in the middle of January. Who cares what you look like in a bikini. There wasn’t a soul on the beach besides some gulls and some un-interested old man reading a paper. The breeze was just right, the waves were crashing, the sun was shining but not too hot… The baby’s kicking lightly because she likes being outside too.

Life can’t get much better than this. I feel so lucky to live where I live and even though I’m hating all this waiting and waiting and waiting, maybe it was meant to be that I have just a few more days to enjoy being exactly where I am right now.

I took a bunch of shots of myself in my bikini but unfortunately Toby has nixed the idea of putting that much skin on the internet (except the one shot, which he approved). He’s right. Even though I love showing off and feeling pretty in my own skin, that’s not exactly the kind of traffic I want to bring to this site. But it made me feel good to take pictures of my super mountainous roundy curves and for once not hate the way I look.