The first ten years of my life, I was surrounded by a pregnant belly. My mother’s. The product of a large family, she was always pregnant. But never once, did I actually see her protuberance without clothes. A modest woman and product of her times, she wore loose tent tops to cover the next addition to our family. And I was thankful of that. I think, given what a fearful child I was, it would have scarred me for life.
But that was then and this is now.
Now, bare baby bumps have taken their place on the cover of magazines and are so mainstream that mothers to be are even painting them.
It’s called belly painting. And it’s the latest fad. Once your belly is the size of a Pilates workout ball, head over to your local artist, and ask for a watercolor–to go.
And then if you’ve got a few extra shekels, get yourself professionally photographed, careful to cover up the private parts, a la the seven-months pregnant Demi Moore on the cover of Vanity Fair.
If you go on Facebook, I am sure you’ll find a bunch of photos. If not, click here.