Every day I say I’m going to start eating perfectly for my pregnancy. I start out pretty well. This morning, I had an English muffin with scrambled egg and water to drink for breakfast (but I also drank some coffee with chocolate soy milk because V woke us up at 5:30). My school takes a “nutrition break” around 10:00, but if you saw what they sell for the kids to eat, you’d demand they change the name to “junk break.” I, myself, snacked on a bran muffin and blueberry yogurt. For lunch, I ate a Healthy Choice Pasta Primavera dish with lots of vegetables and finished with an orange. Oh, how I wanted a Coca Cola, but I drank water instead.
When I got home from work, however, the leftover half-priced Valentine’s Day chocolate called to me. At first, I turned my head in disgust and announced, “I will have none of ye!” I think I even said “ye.” But when grouchy toddler demanded to watch yet ANOTHER episode of “The Wonder Pets” as she chewed on her cold teething toy, and she refused to let me leave her side (and by “refused” I mean she burst into hysterical tears if I even leaned forward like I MIGHT get up), I soothed my frustration and boredom with “fun sized” chocolate.
Now it’s after nine p.m. and all I want to do is eat. I want to raid the fridge and gobble down everything I find. I also want to fit into my clothes. I still cling to the fantasy that the only things that will grow are my boobs and my belly.
I used to have a friend who was a size zero. When she became pregnant, she didn’t gain very much weight. Her belly grew, of course, but the rest of her looked emaciated. In fact, I believe that she ultimately lost weight during the pregnancy, because she gained 17 pounds but had an 8 pound plus baby. Surely the baby plus amniotic fluid, breast swelling, placenta, and increased blood volume was more than 17 pounds! She never purchased maternity clothes because, and I quote her exactly here, “Maternity clothes are for pigs.” In her ninth month, I had lunch with her, and there was another pregnant woman eating at the next table. Her baby daddy commented that the other pregnant woman kept looking over at our table. “That’s because she looks like a whale and I look amazing,” was her explanation.
Remember how I said I “used to” have a friend… Exactly.
Still, I was friends with her for a reason. I’m used to this kind of criticism in my family of origin. Thin = good, fat = bad. And pregnancy counts as “fat.” I’m constantly at war in my head with myself. I’ve gained 8 pounds during this pregnancy, and I’m 21 weeks along. My goal is to gain the recommended 20-30 pounds, but not more. Not 50, like last time. It’s a huge adjustment, watching the scale go back up after a year and a half of watching it creep down, millimeter by painful millimeter.
And now that I’ve written a blog entry like I promised myself, I’m going to EAT!
I guess we all know who’s winning the “war” here.
The Friendly Pedant by Mrs. Odie 
Definitely eat something (protein?) at that time of night.
Wow…. I feel sorry for that woman, she must be really messed up if she has to treat herself like that and then looks down on everyone else for being normal. I pity her child as well.
I hope you continue to blossom and be the beautiful mama you are, and I’m so envious that I don’t have a pregnancy to share with you xo
Oh, Pish Tosh.
Weight, schmeight!
But I know your pain. I come from a family of lithe slim people who chow down on grits and biscuits but still manage to squeeze into a size 0 from Talbot’s (the southern belle’s fashion mothership). I’m normal but of course they think I’m HUGGGGGGGE! I have this one cousin, for whom the word “fat” is the worst thing she could call someone. Her daughter died from complications of anorexia but that’s completely unrelated……. if you stay at her house you have to sneak away to get some food, but if you want wine or vodka, you’re set until the next ice age.
I think that this would be the optimum time to enjoy yourself and not worry about depriving yourself. Just eat nutrient rich foods! This could be a nice time for you to try out some veg recipes, Miss She-Who-Doesn’t-Cook!;-)
Here’s a funny teacher story for you: When I was teaching 7th grade Enlgish, there was an epidemic of name-calling in my room, “fag” and “faggot” in particular. I gave a little mini lesson on some other menaings of the word, so *then* they all started calling each other “decorative stitch”, “cigarette” and “bundle of sticks”! At least I fgot through to them………
Can I take a guess who that pregnant friend was? I’d bet big bucks I know. 😉
I have a feeling you do.
I can’t even begin to list her issues. We’ve all been corrupted by the whole American thin=beautiful mentality, but saying maternity clothes are for pigs is 22 kinds of crazy.
Especially since they DO sell maternity clothes in size 0. You can get them for super cheap at the Old Navy sales because 0-4 are the only sizes that don’t get snatched up instantly.
Yikes. I hope that ex-friend didn’t have a girl. Scary to think of the body-images issues she would instill in her. And echoing the advice to go ahead and have the 9pm snack. Apple & almond butter was my favorite nighttime snack when I was pregnant.
She did have a girl. And then a few years later, she had another.