Pregnancy has turned me in to an old man

If I was standing next to an old man its quite possible you would have trouble telling us apart. The belly could be mistaken for a beer gut, so if it wasn't for the enormous pregnancy-enhanced breasts I'd be offered a senior's discount wherever I went. I've morphed from being a normal 20-something in to a geriatric within a few short months.

Another mummy-to-be and I were discussing this phenomenon at yoga the other day. The old man symptoms have crept up on us but are now full blown:

Walking pharmacy
I take so many different tablets now that my local pharmacy has increased it's profit margin by at least 200% on my sales alone. Whilst I'm not your standard old geezer meds like panadol osteo or warfarin, I too, rattle when I walk
Heart burn & indigestion
On top of all those pills inside me that sound like someone playing the maracas in the distance, I always have a stash of Quick Eze or Rennie's on hand for when Tricky starts playing with matches again. At yoga a few of us even have them sitting next to our mats ready for an attack during 'downward dog'
Slow and steady
Walking pace is a subjective concept – for me its more of a 'hobbling pace' and then only when supported by a handrail. I'm considering investing in a walking frame mainly so that I can have a seat with me at all times for when I get tired
Complain, whinge, moan
I'm generally a patient person... not any more. I catch a bus and train to and from work and the number of bloody teenagers that stare at me through their long emo fringes from the comfort of their seat while I stand, glaring back at them, is astounding! The little buggers on their 50c fares... As you can see, I get a little worked up about it. If it's not 'kid's these days' then its the weather.
Dither dother
As I explained earlier, the mumnesia has hit me hard. I liken it to early stage dementia
Strange obsessions
Like most preggos suffering baby-brain when it comes to baby related things I'm sharp as a tack. Old men may prattle on about trains and the war, my talents lie in being able to tell you the fibre content of that muffin you're eating, the names of all the pain relief drugs available in birth (by both their manufacture name and brand name) and can also reel off a list of statistics on birth interventions. Yes, I'm that boring.

I'm prepared to acknowledge that I've just listed the qualities of a stereotype, but hey, stereotypes are based in fact a lot of the time. Just look at the pregnant woman stereotype – fits like a glove!