Belly Rubbing

I never thought I would be one of those belly rubbing pregnant women. In fact, ever since I watched pregnant week on the 5pm edition of Let's Make a Deal (Or is it Deal or No Deal? Who can remember...) I was a bit put off by the 30 preggo women rubbing their bulging bellies.

But this weekend, I started rubbing my tummy. At first, I was totally selfish. I was doing it repeatedly in line for the restroom at the crowded conference, hoping that one of the 20 women in line in front of me would take pity on a gal with a foot in her bladder. No such luck. I waited and waited and waited, rubbing my tummy raw in vain.

And then I couldn't stop rubbing. At one point, I looked down and noticed that my belly button is getting really shallow and weird looking, like almost gone, and that made me rub more vigorously. It's like I can't help myself now, want to always be in contact with my son somehow, even through a massive layer of epidermis.

And yet I hate when strangers want to rub my belly. I know this will only get worse. I don't mind when my friends or loved ones dive in for a quick polish, but strangers? On my tummy? Step back! Back off! This is my rubbing area.

Maybe I'll become so preoccupied with belly rubbing that I'll stop picking my darn zits (which have grown in mass number since becoming pregnant). I'll have something else to absentmindedly do with my hands. This would fill my mother with massive joy, I'll tell you what.

I'd still like to understand the mechanics of belly rubbing. Why must I do it? Why must others rub the belly of pregnant women? What is so magical about the bulge of skin protecting a developing baby? I'm not entirely sure yet, but I'm finding the discovery process surprisingly enjoyable.