I spoke too soon

21 weeks

Having recently rejoiced the end of the spotty teenager phase of my pregnancy, I awoke this morning to see my fifteen-year-old self staring back at me in the mirror.
Or should I say, my fifteen-year-old chin.
It's a good job that concealers have come such a long way since nineteen eighty-ahem.
However, no concealer works miracles, so I still feel acutely embarrassed because as a grown woman it looks like I just haven't bothered washing my face. This is made all the worse by the fact that I'm still in that "Is she pregnant or is she fat?" stage, so it's not immediately obvious that it's just my hormones in overdrive.
Oh well, it beats morning sickness.