Pregnancy is gross.

I told my sister last week that pregnancy is pretty disgusting, and she asked me why. Here, my friends, is why pregnancy is gross:

1. Gas. Oh my god, gas. I've never been so gassy, crampy and uncomfortable in all my life. It doesn't matter what I eat (but it is a WHOLE lot worse if I eat a fiber bar, I learned my lesson and will not do that again). Luckily it is worse in the evening so I don't have to deal with it at work. A lot of pregnant women are constipated. I'm talking no poo for a week. Why would your body do that to you?? Again, I lucked out here, I eat a lot of fruit so I haven't had to deal with that.

2. Nausea and puking. Now I feel a little bad complaining because I never threw up. Not once! Hate me all you want, pregnant women and mothers, but it's true. I still felt sick for a good 6 weeks, didn't want to eat anything, but had to eat all the time. At points I desperately wanted to throw up because I thought I would feel better, but I just couldn't do it.

3. Hair. Hair everywhere. I feel like Chewbacca when I take my shirt off. My stomach is getting the worst of it and I'm just waiting for it to spread to other areas (My feet? Hands? Shoulders? Where will it appear?).

4. Acne. Ok, ok, I haven't had to deal with it too much on my face, which is nice. If I'm fully dressed and covered up I look pretty good. But, again, when I take my shirt off it's a whole different story (Note: I don't take my shirt off that often, I'm just thinking about warmer weather and how I'm going to wear my bathing suit covered in hair and pimples). My back, my chest, and again, my stomach are awful. My back is the worst, I feel like I'm on steroids or something. Some days are better than others, but some days I want to wear a turtleneck.

5. Hormones. Mood swings. I know it's not physically disgusting, but it's pretty gross when you feel like you can't control yourself at times. I'm not always moody, but at times I can be downright nasty. I always feel bad about it afterwards, but no one really seems to care when I apologize for yelling, crying and throwing my phone down the hallway (then cursing and crying more because it broke and I couldn't find all of the pieces). Although at the time I felt like these actions were completely justified. Pregnant women don't make ice cream runs for their men. The men make ice cream runs for their wonderful, beautiful pregnant partners. Unless you're dating Chris Tyre, Bluebell King of central Texas.

I'm sure I've left some out, but those are the main culprits for me. Anything I'm missing?