Pregnancy Poundage

Deelish

Once upon a time I jump-started my days with an extra-extra-large iced latte with extra-extra shots of espresso.  Today…?  I kicked off my morning by downing a bottle of orange soda with the taste appeal of flavored urine in preparation for a Glucose screening test.  Mmmmm.

My stomach properly coated in carbonated nastiness, I waddled to the doctor’s office for my blood test and 29-week checkup.  It was a fairly routine and reassuring appointment.  As usual, Baby Girl and Future Detention Regular squirmed and vociferously kicked the doctor as she attempted to listen to Baby Girl’s heartbeat (turns out, it’s strong); she is measuring just right; AND shocker of all shockers, I have only gained a pound since my last visit, totaling 13 pounds overall.

How can this be?  I haven’t been able to see my feet for weeks; the only reason I know they’re still attached to my body is from dropping a bottle of shampoo on them the other day.  Yeah, ouch.  I mentally scanned my recent diet:  cinnamon coffee cakes; bowls of Frosted Flakes; pints of Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Fudge Brownie Frozen Yogurt — and that’s just been for breakfast.

To be honest, I haven’t been going overboard with the goodies, but I haven’t been particularly finicky about my pregnancy diet either.   So I wouldn’t have been at all surprised if the number had been higher.  Especially considering that at my baby shower, nine out of ten relatives feasted their eyes upon my belly and gasped, “Wow.”  Which I believe is not-so-secret code for “Day-um, girl.  You big!”

However, as a gal who managed to gain the FRESHMAN 50 (no joke) in college and comes from a family of ladies that typically pack on 60+ pregnancy pounds, I am a bit relieved.  The doctor is happy with my weight gain so far, a gain that puts me on track to add the recommended 25-30 pounds.  Of course, I’ve just totally jinxed myself and am no doubt going to spend my last couple of months swimming in a sea of deep-fried chocolate cheesecake.  But whatever.  Color ME happy, too.  In fact, pass me a spoon and color me Chocolate Fudge Brownie!

Flying high from the doctor’s flattery — I’m easy like that — I sashayed my pregnant ass into the waiting room full of pregnant chicks to make my next appointment.  Why, even my jeans felt looser now!   Then I looked down and realized they ARE looser.  Because, um…

I FORGOT TO BUTTON AND ZIP UP MY PANTS.

No joke.

I’m one cool mama, alright.

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Candy

Candy Kirby is the founder of The Laughing Stork and a professional fun-maker who will never stop chasing her lifelong dream: to find the Pomeranian or porn star after whom her parents must have named her. She also used to be a staff writer for the soap opera, The Bold and the Beautiful, where she penned many scripts featuring prolonged heated stares and countless “Who’s the Daddy?” story lines. Candy lives in Los Angeles with her husband, two young kids and three rescue Persian cats who enjoy blanketing every inch of the house in kitty fur.

For more of Candy's nonsense, check out her personal Twitter, The Laughing Stork's Twitter and The Laughing Stork's Facebook page.

2 CommentsLeave a comment

  • Ooh, I have a bottle of that orange yumminess sitting in my fridge for next week. But way to go on the weight gain! And the pants!

    Shortly after I had my first child, I was going for a walk with the baby strapped into a carrier when I felt a distinct breeze on my legs. I kept thinking, “Hmmm, that’s odd” and finally, after walking another two blocks, I looked down to make sure I was wearing pants. I was actually wearing a skirt (hence the breeze), but the fact that whether or not I was wearing pants was a valid question, and that it took me TWO BLOCKS to finally check, is a testament to that thing we call “mommy brain”. And I hear it doesn’t improve until the kids move out of the house.

  • Hard to resist chugging that orange yumminess every time you open the fridge, isn’t it?

    Re: “Mommy Brain” — Yeah, I’m pretty sure I was neither the first nor the last pregnant chick to emerge from the examination room with her pants wide open. When I ran back, mortified, to zipper my pants, my doctor just looked at me and shrugged as though she’d seen it happen a million times before.

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