There are so many things I didn’t know before I got pregnant. For instance: I didn’t know I would grow a fine white beard or cry in the super market when moving muzak was played. But I think one of the more difficult things I’ve encountered is that I can’t complain anymore. I mean I am able to complain, but people are always trying to make me feel better instead of commiserating.
I’m beating around the bush though, because there’s only one big thing I want to complain about…my weight. I’ve gained a pound a week since I got pregnant. It’s not like I’m eating hot wings and ice cream, I just can’t move that well anymore. At first I was too tired, then I got a chronic back ache (sacrum, if you want to know all the gory details). Now at twenty weeks, I feel like a minke whale.
It’s not just my belly, it’s my giant boobs and feet too. For someone who was so vain about her intense and regular gym work outs, this is a very distressing change. Especially because when I do make it to the gym, I feel like it’s packed with skinny pregnant girls jogging on the treadmill. I would need a plaster bra to go jogging.
I try and complain about how fat I feel to everyone. I’m not exaggerating. I bring it up to the Fed Ex guy, the mail lady, the 7-11 clerk, my mom, my doorman, a guy I saw smoking outside of my office building…anyone who makes the mistake of asking “How are you”. It turns out that the most frustrating part about feeling hugely fat and unathletic is that people respond with the most annoyingly obvious “But you’re pregnant”.
Yes. I know I’m pregnant. And I’m so so happy I am. It truly feel like it’s a miracle, and I don’t even believe in miracles. It’s something I dreamed about happening since I first met my husband (creating a tiny helpless version of him who would let me bath him and carry him around).
I just didn’t know I’d feel so fat.
So there you have it. That’s the truth. I’m pregnant, and I’m one of those people who I made fun of before I knew what it was like. How could I possibly care what I look like if I have a human growing inside of me? But it’s really how rickety I feel. And how much I hate noticing it, instead of being in a constant state of euphoria about the little bean in my belly.
