I got “The Talk.”
No, not the birds & the bees. I think it’s obvious that I know the basics of penis meets vagina, given the current “no vacancy” sign on my uterus.
No, I got the weight talk. From the doctor. Unfortunately, not the kind where he tells me to shove my face with grilled cheese & peanut butter cups to my hearts delight, but the kind where he tells me TO STOP BEING SUCH AN EFFING WHALE. & the worst part is, I BROUGHT IT UPON MYSELF.
I am officially up 22 lbs from my pre-pregnancy weight. (Sadly, my pre-pregnancy weight was a wee bit fat for me, but PEOPLE, I drank my feelings for 6 weeks back in December. Gin takes no prisoners when it comes to your waistline. Remember?) But 22 pounds. Not bad for almost 30 weeks, especially considering the 5 lbs of fluid permanently lodged in Ol’ Rosie, aka my left cankle. So WHY, dear God WHY, did I bring up my weight gain as my doctor was walking out of the exam room? What in God’s named spurred me to say, “So, my weight looks okay? Because for awhile there, I’ve been gaining 3 lbs per week.” SWEET JESUS BLAIR, will you never learn to keep your mouth shut?! Regrettably, my doctor informed me that I should cut out all snacks & desserts in order to keep my weight gain under 30 lbs.
Whisky. Tango. Foxtrot. I passed the gestational diabetes test! I have no dietary restrictions! Until today….& NO SNACKIES??? I stuttered, informing him that I swear, promise, cross-my-heart that despite the occasional cuppycake, I snack on Kashi bars, fruit, & cheese. He greeted me with a blank stare that said “I THINK YOU’RE LYING” & I know this picture was flying through his head:
I promise, Doctor. THAT WAS JUST ONE TIME. & the baby NEEDED Moe’s.
Near tears, I promised I would bump up evening walks to 2 miles if THE MAN WILL JUST LET ME KEEP MY KASHI BARS. He said, “Yes, walking is lovely, but remember — you only have 8 lbs to go until 30. You’ll probably be hungry, but the baby won’t care. I promise.” ::sobs::
RIP, snackies. RIP, cuppycakes that speak to my soul.
oh, & go figure this happened on a day when my office is filled with the buttery smell of warm Otis Spunkmeyer Cookies. Eff my life.
