As a child, I was convinced that Ariel and I were one. We were the same person, and I was so sure that I was a mermaid that I would sit on my bedroom floor pretending to give my voice to seawitch, “Ah ah ah, ah, ah, ahhhhhh” as I lifted a yellow goldish bouncy ball into the air acting as if it was the visual of my voice lifting up to Ursula. During the summer, I would cross my legs at the ankles to make sure I could swim like a mermaid refusing to separate my legs to the point of sinking at times. I was going to be a mermaid. I was a mermaid. You would NOT believe how pissed I was when I found out that my mom wanted to name me Ariel and my dad crushed that with, “I’m not naming my kid after an antenna.” Aerial does not equal Ariel. Thanks, nerd. I kid, Dad. Love you… but like – COME ON In the midst of all my dreaming and planning (I am such a planner that I follow paper planners on all my social media) as an adult, I came across a maternity shirt that I quickly pinned on Pinterest...