It's official. That whole "trouble gaining weight thing" I was having in the beginning of the pregnancy? It's over. And now I have entered the OMGWHEREDIDTHOSELOVEHANDLESCOMEFROMMYBODYISMUSHYANDDISGUSTINGWHYCANTISTOPEATINGIWANTTOCRY phase. Got that? In short, I feel disgusting.
I know this is all part of pregnancy and it really is ok. It really is. Later. It's fine. Once I lose it. Now? It makes me feel really bad about myself. Some women gain weight like Bridget Moynahan--a little bump on skinny hips and skinny everywhere else:
I am more like Salma Hayek:
Ordinarily, this is a huge compliment. She is gorgeous and sexy and most men love her. But in pregnancy? Maybe not so much. This is what I do, though. I balloon. No matter how much I run, or how well I eat (what? 8 16 oz. bags of Cadbury mini eggs in a week is good for me, right?) I still end up looking liking Shamu.
It seems like everything I eat sticks to me. R's mother sent chocolate chip cookies, which I pounced on with abandon--I needed to gain more, right?--Um, oops. I gained 5 POUNDS IN FIVE DAYS. I kid you not. I think each cookie put a pound of fat on my thighs. I have now gained around 12 pounds, which according to my pregnancy books is a-ok. This means, if I continue at a pound a week, I should reach about 33, which is still 15 pounds less than the first pregnancy. So, ok. I can manage that. And I plan to be running again two weeks after the birth (same as last time). So why can't I make myself feel better? Why is this so damn hard?
I do hate myself a little for even admitting this. It is not that I am not grateful for the pregnancy. I am. Deeply. But I hate the extra skin on my hips, the looks of pity I get at the gym when people wonder if I am just a fat girl pretending to work out (think I am a TAD paranoid?) and the fact that my size 4 jeans are officially retired until G-d knows when.
I want the baby. I even want the pregnancy. But I hate the loss of control and all the changes. It is hard enough just to have a new baby, let alone feel like crap about my body all over again. I did this once and that was plenty. I am sorry that I am shallow and vain. I blame my parents. But there is is, people. And it ain't pretty.