I still don't know how much weight I've gained.
I don't want to know. I just want a tally at the end.
The nurses at the OB's office don't even blink when I close my eyes and ask them not to say the number out loud. We will do this again this afternoon. They are fine with it.
I know myself. I knew from the beginning that I'd obsess about numbers along the way.
Which is unhealthy in normal life, and really not what I wanted in pregnancy. I just decided that as long as they told me it was fine every time, I'd go with that.
Nick, Betty and I all think it's probably about 30 lbs. The OB said to gain 25-35, and so this is right about there. I'm OK with that.
But I know I wouldn't have been, month by month and now week by week, if I'd known the number. I'd have stressed about the stupid number. I'd have translated that into thinking about how to keep it on the low end of the OK spectrum. Or maybe a little lower.
This is me. This is how I am. Old habits die hard.
But this, this has been pretty liberating.
I haven't embraced the erroneous "You're eating for two! Eat whatever you want!"
Because the fact is, to gain the way they want you to, you only get 300 extra calories a day. This is not actually a whole lot.
That said, I have been more liberal with my diet in the last nine months than since I was 15 and started obsessing.
I have treats, even though I know I can't balance them out with insane amounts of really hard exercise. I've had more milkshakes in pregnancy than I have since I was a child. I don't have them daily or even weekly. But I do.
And hamburgers! And cheeseburgers! And Reubens! Do you know how good Reuben sandwiches are? They might be my new crack.
I don't have anything to compare it to, but So's Your Mom makes a really yummy one.
And eating these things (almost) without feeling guilty? What a novelty! What a delight!
Last week, when I was at the cardiologist (confirmation: normal) I asked the Physician's Assistant, who weighed me, not to tell me.
She gave me a look and was all, "Well, that's one way to do it."
And I was all, "Yup!"
But really, I felt like saying, "Listen, judgeypants, you and your raised eyebrows should maybe just fuck off. And is that a sharp implement on the counter? Because clearly have no idea how stabby pregnant women of an as-yet-to-be-determined amount of weight can be."