Monday, April 21, 2008

20 Pound Baby

So, this spring has not been the best that I've ever lived through.  The weather is seriously screwed up with disassociated identity disorder going from summer to winter and back.  Last Saturday we had summer with warm sun! and breeze! and droves of Seattlites all fighting over space outside!  Now this week we've had cold thunderstorms, snow, and the new favorite joke these clouds have is to throw down hail every so often through the sun breaks.  Mean and spiteful.  It makes me want to sit and eat and watch bad TV.

Eating seems to be how I normally deal with this badness.  Since we've moved to Seattle, I have my summer weight and my winter weight.  My summer sizes and my winter sizes.  I'm starting to think that buying one of those SAD lamps might just be more cost effective than upkeeping two different wardrobes and the supply of carbs I consume during the rainy season.  

Apparently, I'm consistent in my search for comfort through calories because last week at my OB appointment, I got the weight talk.  "You're gaining too much too fast" and "let's try to maintain" and "extra weight causes extra problems".  All of which I agree with technically.  But I naturally get defensive and think "I didn't gain anything for the first couple months and you told me to eat!  I've been following directions!" and "I thought the body would just do it's thing and gain what it needs" and "WAH!!!"

Yesterday I went to the gym and weighed myself on that scale hoping the Doctor's scale was off.  No such luck - I have indeed gained quite a bit of weight pretty quickly.  So now I just have to make the commitment to eat more rationally and less emotionally and go to the gym more regularly.  It sounds easy.  I've done it before.  But PLEASE.  Tell me.  Who wants to go to the gym when you're 6 1/2 moths pregnant and HUGE just to glide along on the elliptical machine next to Ms. Fit 2008?

Really, I think the only option is to convince myself I'm going to have a 20 pound baby and a 15 pound placenta.  If only I could take this sandwich out of my mouth for long enough to do it.

1 comment:

Manda said...

Oh my gosh I'm so glad you told me about this post!! I was SO ASHAMED!! My husband was all "C'mon. Tell me how much you weigh." And I told him. And do you know what he said? He said: "You beat me by two pounds!!" Mind you, my husband is a built 6-footer and I'm 5'4. I could have killed him. This baby had better be HUGE!!