Hm. Let's just jump into it, shall we?
Upper arms: You know, this pregnancy thing doesn't really concern you. So stop trying to grab all the attention. There's no need to get all puffed up. No one wants to look at you. Least of all me. So send the wiggly-jiggles to the baby, where extra fat is cute, and BACK THE HECK DOWN, ALREADY.
Junk-in-the-trunk: I get that a woman needs a little extra padding to support the new life she's creating. But I think you're taking it too far. In case you didn't read the baby books along with me, the baby's growing in my ABDOMEN, not the back of my jeans. On the big day, no one's going to be checking my back pockets, 'kay? So you can take it easy too.
Skin: I don't know if you even deserve to be CALLED skin. "Skin" is elastic, responsive to the environment, adaptable to the surrounding situation. YOU are parched, dry, more like papyrus than anything that should cover a human being. Even when I bathe you in delicious lotions like those made by Aveeno and Jergens, you make me look to the outside world like an 89-year-old. A pregnant one. (This is NOT a good look. I was never interested in getting into the Guinness Book of World Records. At least not THAT way.)
Hair: You are the only part of me I'm happy with right now. THANK YOU for being all full and shiny and not-oily. I love my new ability to go two full days between shampoos. This fits in MUCH better with my life than the nightly hair-care routine I was forced to adopt before pregnancy. I reserve the right to detest you again once the hormone change that is sure to occur after delivery takes you back to the way you were, though. You've been warned.