Since I was starting my ninth month, I was now going each Friday morning to be poked and prodded in personal places. The paper gown felt rough on my skin as I pulled myself up on the examining table. I determinedly avoided looking at my ankles. I was glad I couldn’t see my rear end.I wanted to distract myself from my fat flaws by rechecking my steno pad, but it was across the room in my purse, and I didn’t feel like clambering off the table to get it.I heard a knock. “Come in.”Dr. Williams breezed in and smiled at me. Her gray-haired bob was cut just below her ears. “So, Trish, how are you feeling?” She motioned for me to get into position.“Oh, pretty rotten, really,” I said. “I’m exhausted. My ankles look fat. My pants are tight. And I’m really cranky.”“That good, hmm?” When she was done with her exam, she patted my knee and told me to sit up. “Things look great with the baby. Right on target, although you need to remember that you had Sammie a couple of weeks early.”
