This Sunday was a classic representation of my day to day struggle with dressing myself: First, I put on a comfortable long black dress. Hmmm. I look like a sausage. Added a scarf. It didn’t help. Oh well, I guess that’s just life for the next couple months. I wore the dress for about an hour, glancing at my stuffed state with disgruntled sighs from time to time. Then, with a few minutes before heading to church, I headed back into the bedroom for a second attempt. I pulled out a thin white shirt with an elastic at the bottom, a bohemian pale pink skirt and a gray cardigan. Immediately, my shape transformed from overstuffed to stylish and fun. Sure my belly protruded from my cardigan in an “in your face” sort of way, (and considering the number of people who made eye contact with my belly before making eye contact with my face, I don’t think I’m the only one thinking this.) But.. . I avoided the “I’ve given up” look for one more week.