I’ve been monitoring my weight since I found out I was pregnant to make sure I don’t gain too much weight. Before I found out, I was working out 4 times a week. I was steadily losing weight and toning muscles. I have to admit… I look good! I haven’t worked out since because I have been sick with a really bad cold, and I just don’t have time. I’ve been working 11 hour days and am too exhausted by the time I get home.
When I was a senior in high school, my metabolism slowed to a stop, while my appetite for greasy food increased. My high school dance teacher left mid-year and was “replaced” by a series of substitute teachers who took roll call and read a magazine. Between the middle of my senior year and the middle of my freshman year of college, I gained at least 60 pounds. I’m below that weight now, but just barely. I remember my sister coming to me after church one day saying “I’ve been asked “Are congratulations are in order or if I should keep my mouth shut?”” I was completely confused. She gently told me people assumed the weight gain meant I was pregnant. I was offended and shocked at the same time. I knew my weight had gotten the better of me, but to hear that people were asking about me was a different thing altogether.
When I got engaged, I swore I would drop the weight before the engagement. We had a two year engagement, which came and went, and I hadn’t lost any weight at all. I was mad at myself for not trying to lose it. I was mad at myself for not sticking to a promise I had made. It wasn’t until I moved out of California and away from the “fast food on every corner” mentality. I did little things while back in California: switched from white to wheat, and from 2% to non-fat milk. I drink a lot of milk by myself. About a gallon a week, sometimes more. Switching to non-fat was hard at first, but I was able to do it and now 2% tastes like cream to me.
Since living in Minnesota, we’ve cooked so many more meals at home, At first they weren’t the healthiest, but they were a great deal healthier than fast food. We have slowly started to make more and more meals from scratch, adding a lot of protein to each meal with chicken, pork, or beans. A close friend of mine is a vegetarian, so she has opened my eyes to healthier ways to eat without meat.
I’m not at my ideal weight, and I’m not all that close either. I intend to lose an additional 40 pounds or so. A couple of months ago, I went clothes shopping with my husband. I preferred to shop at one store for jeans because they fit me right, but they were really pricey for one pair. So we stopped at Old Navy because they were having a really good sale. I tried on my “size”, and they were big on me. By “size” I mean the number on the jeans matched the number I was wearing at the time. I tried on a smaller pair, same problem. Another. And another. Same problem; they were all too big on me. I finally found a pair that fit and the number was WAY off. I looked at Chris, who said that I had lost a lot of weight. He wasn’t surprised that I would drop that many sizes since we hadn’t been shopping in a long time.
When I found out I got the new office job I interviewed for, I asked my good friend “Chrissie” to go shopping with me. Her answer was, of course, yes. I found that the size I found at Old Navy didn’t fit me at different stores. I was very upset. Had I gained the weight back? Had I deluded myself into thinking I had lost weight and dropped clothing sizes? I decided then and there that the number doesn’t matter. It only matters how the clothes look and fit. I found several pairs of pants that fit well and chose a couple to purchase. To be honest with you, I couldn’t tell you what size they are.
When I found out I was pregnant, weight crossed my mind. I know that if I do it right, I shouldn’t gain any more than necessary, and I can lose it all, plus more when the baby is born. This, of course, hinges all on doing it right. That means no gorging on greasy burgers – even though I’m craving them 24/7 – but instead, eating something healitier (a piece of fruit, a rice cake, etc) when a craving hits. As long as I get the proper nutrtion for me and the baby, all should be well. I’m not too worried about it.
Chrissie is pregnant and due in late October. I love to go shopping with her, so we decided to hit the annual neighborhood yard sale around the corner from my apartment complex. We were looking specifically for baby things for her, because at the time I wasn’t pregnant or planning on becoming pregnant. We took “Rory” with us. She is Chrissie’s boyfriend’s daughter. Frickin’ cute kid, too – cuz ya know, that’s totally relevant.
Something you should know: Chrissie is half-black, her boyfriend “Bri” and his daughter Rory are white. *Shrug* No biggie. Chrissie is more of Rory’s mom than I will ever be. That’s because Chrissie and Bri are planning to be married next year. So, literally, Chrissie will be Rory’s step-mom. People automatically assume Rory is mine. There’s nothing wrong with that, but I giggle a little when they ask me how old she is, and Chrissie responds. People either assume I’m Rory’s mom, or that we both are.
While yard sale shopping, we had Rory with us in a stroller, looking at baby clothes and toys. We both tend to mother her. And by that, I mean we take turns saying “no” or giving her this or that. It’s an easy mistake to assume we’re both Rory’s moms, or be confused as to who her real mom is. While Chrissie was looking at something for sale (an item that was already on her registry), the little old lady who selling the item was chatting me up, talking about Rory and the baby on it’s way. At the time, Chrissie wasn’t showing yet. This woman automatically assumed I was the pregnant one because of my belly. She kept moving her eye contact from my eyes to my tummy. (You know, the one part that is the hardest to get rid of when losing weight…) I kind of exclaimed “Oh! I’m not pregnant, she is!” pointing at Chrissie. The woman didn’t bat an eye and looked at Chrissie and said “Well, congratulations!” I wasn’t sure if I should be offended, or if I needed to be more careful about what I choose what to wear.
There are very few people at work who know I’m pregnant.
- The gal next to me does; she’s not on my team, and doesn’t talk to anyone on my team.
- Another gal a few cubicles away knows, again not on my team.
- My boss knows. It was kind of pertinent to tell him when trying to explain why I am stressing out and really don’t want to be stressing out. He totally understood. We had a great conversation and should have a great working relationship from here on out.
In the break room yesterday, I was preparing my lunch and a woman was pouring herself a cup of coffee. I’ve only seen her once or twice, but I know she’s been with the company for a while. She just has that air about her. She looks me up and down and says “So when are you due?” A non-pregnant woman’s response would be “huh?” My response, without even looking up, was “February 17th.” The second it was out of my mouth, I realized what had just happened. I looked at what I was wearing. I was wearing a form fitting ribbed tank top under my blouse to “hold in” my belly. I was fairly certain I had a decently flat tummy with the outfit I was wearing (it’s one of the things I strive for every morning when choosing my outfit), so I’m not sure how she knew. Maybe I was glowing. Maybe I just had that smile on my face. I had thought I was containing my excitement perfectly. Apparently not. We talked a little about the pregnancy so far, she was suprised at herself for knowing when I’m just barely 7 weeks pregnant.
At work, I sit nowhere near my team, so Googling baby items on my lunch break isn’t a problem. I tend to squirm a little when I am reminded that I’m pregnant, I’m going to have a baby, I’m going to be a mommy. How am I supposed to contain that excitement? How am I supposed to focus when all I can think of is furniture, baby sheets, onsies, and stuffed bears?