KITCHENER POST
Big Brother on bump watch
By Karen Kawawada

Thursday, May, 03, 2012 - 1:01:25 PM

I don’t follow celebrity news closely, but the news that Jessica Simpson finally gave birth has thrilled me to the tips of my water-retaining toes.

Maybe now the media will stop obsessing over her pregnant body and what she’s choosing to put in or on it.

Of course, the gossip-mongers will still have her postpartum shape-up to pick apart, but the flow of vitriol regarding her pregnancy weight gain must come to a halt. With luck, I may never again read about the buttered Pop-Tarts she ate, nor hear her referred to as an “absolute porker” — or worse — for daring to put on weight while pregnant. For that, I’m grateful.

I don’t know what it is that makes people feel they have the right to comment so freely on pregnant women’s bodies and the choices they make about them. I’m currently eight months pregnant, and in the last few months I’ve felt as though bump watch has become a spectator sport, with an endless stream of Don Cherrys as commentators.

“Kawawada has a basketball in front of her. She’s carrying it low. Ooh, that’s got to be putting pressure on her pelvic ligaments, not to mention her back. Luckily that bowling ball is somewhat balanced by the larger weights she’s now carrying on her chest. They’re still small, but those suckers have gone up at least a cup size.”

Normally it would be considered impolite to comment on the size of my midsection, never mind grope it.

Strangers don’t normally decide for me that I should have decaf instead of regular coffee, veto my choice of cheeses, or inquire about my bladder continence. This has all changed.

To all the people who believe a pregnant woman’s belly exerts such a powerful gravitational force as to warp the normal laws of etiquette, I have news for you: it doesn’t. This even applies to female celebrities, whether they’re pregnant or merely unfortunate enough to have fallen prey to paparazzi after having actually eaten a hamburger.

I’m not suggesting we go back to the days when women had to hide under muumuus if they were seen at all in their “condition.” But we’ve gone too far in turning expectant mothers’ bodies into public property.

Ever since Demi Moore posed nude and pregnant on the cover of Vanity Fair, women with perfect baby bumps — not too big, not too small, “all baby” — have been elevated to the status of demi-goddesses (no pun intended).

There are belly casting kits for those women, so they can forever hang plaster versions of their swollen breasts and bellies in their living rooms, perhaps painted with trees or bedazzled with rhinestones.

As for those women who gain 70 pounds instead of 25, or alternatively, only seven? They’re materna non grata, targets of criticism disguised as concern.

The fact is, women’s bodies are as different in pregnancy as they are at any other time. Not every woman who “pops” early eats cheesecake for breakfast. Not every woman who barely gains takes meth for dessert.

So, on behalf of pregnant women everywhere, hear me: our bodies are still ours. No, you may not touch our bellies. If we want to eat buttered Pop-Tarts, that’s our business. 

Even if we look like Jessica Simpson.