“You look really cute,” the coffee shop barista said to me, handing over a pastry.

“You just look so cute,” my co-worker said when I came in, late, to our daily meeting. “Can I hug you? I have to hug you. You’re just so. …” My friend’s voice trailed off, smothered by the weight of our embrace.

But she didn’t have to finish the sentence. We both knew. I looked cute.

Had I gone on a makeover show? Got a fabulous hairstyle? Splurged on some amazing new designer? No. It was late November, I was six months pregnant and wearing $15 overalls. It is not an overstatement that I found myself on the receiving end of more positive attention for my looks during that first week in overalls than at any point in my life — not on my wedding day, not at prom, not when I wore my first choker necklace in the eighth grade or got an extremely cool eyebrow piercing during a college term abroad.

When you’re living with a growing, changing and visibly pregnant body, body image gets weird. For me, gaining weight was more emotionally arduous than I would have thought. Pulling on pants that were straining in the thighs as well as stomach, for instance, was irrationally troubling. Maybe the wave of positive attention felt extra profound because I was struggling with my new topography more than I wanted to admit.

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