And the rain.

Because along with the joys of the second trimester have come the downsides, and I would be a dishonest pregnancy blogger if I didn't mention those as well. Namely, the stretch marks. Weight gain, I can tolerate in good faith because at least theoretically it's reversible. The stretch marks, on the other hand? Not so much. Oh, I know some day they'll fade to silver (and, as my cousin tells me, "look more like wrinkles!"), but for now, the D-cup bust I was so excited about (because suddenly it was up from a small B) looks like it just went several rounds with an angry tiger. Talk about taking the wind out of my sails. Add that to the fact that most of the women I talk to fit into the "Oh, I never had a single stretch mark!" category (much like the way that my informal survey has revealed that approximately 90% of my acquaintances and patients were remarkably free of morning sickness), and it all has me feeling like life is a little unfair. It's kind of like going through puberty again--you don't know what the hormonal lottery is going to award you--except that I ALREADY WENT THROUGH PUBERTY. And spent the last fifteen years making peace with what it gave me. And now what it gave me is gone, and in its place I feel like there's something completely different. Even the most body-positive among us, I think, have to admit that that's rather unsettling.