So. I have previously pointed out. I am a pear. Through and through. My body looks like this {imagine Grin in the gut}.
Because of my pear-shaped proportions, I have a sort of saddlebag like growth on my outer-upper legs. The kind that of growth that, when squeezed {and let’s be real, sometimes not even just when squeezed}, bears resemblance to something that you’d find in a plastic container in the dairy section at your local grocers. I’ve accepted this fact because at the end of the day, you just can’t change your body type and the whole cellulite thing is just part of life {just ask Holly Madison and Kim Kardashian}. But lately, I’ve taken issue with the fact that these bags are bearing the brunt of my pregnancy snoozing sessions.
When pg with our first peanut, I rarely felt sore. I don’t recall ever having issues examining the insides of my eyelids. I remember wondering what all the fuss was about when it came to catching forty winks with fetus.
And now … I get it.
Perhaps it’s because I’m older now {and no, I’m not being dramatic, it’s a fact. I’m older this time} but I am here to tell you, my saddles are sore. So, after much research, I snagged myself a Snoogle.
This miracle mass for a momma-to-be is supposed to solve all your sleep struggles and take you directly to dreamland. Taking up the better-half of the bed I share with my better-half, this full-body pillow boasts support of bellies and backs. Enough to take all the pressure off your many pregnant parts.
So, for three nights, I snuggled with a Snoogle. And I’ve decided, I’d rather snuggle with my sweetie. After the first night, I woke the next morn with a stiff neck and a throbbing thunder thigh. The second, I woke at 3 am and flung it to the floor. I tried it another night only to find my back begging for sleep sans Snoogle, once again. The Snoogle just isn’t scratching the itch and so, I think I’ve got to return to sender.
I ask you, if you have any wisdom to impart on taking the pressure off my parts, my gams will gladly give you thanks. Sadly though, the adult-sized Boppy that, for just a few nights, canoodled with my core was not the answer to this preggo problem. So long, Snoogie. Miss you, I won’t.
