Baby Weight

I visited a friend the other day who gave birth about 2 ½ weeks ago to a 6 pound, 9 ounce, so much hair-looks-like-she’s-wearing-a-baby-wig girl. This is my friend's 3rd child in about 4 ½ years. A lot of my friends seem to be ridiculous breeders. Anyway, she comes to the door in a little t-shirt and size 8 mesh shorts. To which I declare how much I hate her, she responds, “everyone looks good in mesh shorts,” a statement that can only be made by someone who is either still in sleep deprived new baby-I love the world-stupor land, or has at sometime lost 90% of her vision unknowingly, and I should hide her car keys.

I love me friend but would have hated to be pregnant at the same time as her. When I got pregnant the first time (Sophia), I weighed less than I had in probably 15 years. Before even knowing I was pregnant, within 3 weeks or so, I gained 15 pounds. And then tossed on another 35 pounds to provide my unborn child the enjoyment of a “bounce house” environment. While speaking with my doctor, I smugly declared my physical prowess by telling him I was using Pregnancy yoga tapes. He stated, “You might want to start walking.” I wiped my stinging tears, picked up some Cherry Garcia, and called him a quack.

My second pregnancy came 3 months after giving birth to my first child, so there wasn’t a lot of time to diet, only time for disbelief and weeping. I lost some, though not nearly all of the weight after Alana. When I decided to get pregnant again, it was a new concept to me. Previously, it was the “”Hey, where did these boobs come from? Wait… I seem to be missing something, something annoying and I haven’t been overtly bitchy for a while….hmm…lets check the calendar..How many days has it been? 47? I think I’m usually more regular than that…oh God, go to CVS –EPT ASAP STAT!!!

So all in all, I was much more proactive. I went ahead and gained 20 pound before I even conceived. The morning after conception, I was in elastic waist and tie back tops. There was no “lets wait until 12 weeks to tell anyone.” I just wanted to hurry up and say, “Look, I’m pregnant! Not fat! Yes, only 8 days pregnant, but you know, hormones kick it right away with the third! Quit judging me, Twiggy!”

So now, nearly 21 months after my third and final (Dante), I know I will never be able to use my zygote as an explanation for embarrassing behavior at a buffet, or buying large shakes to “treat the baby.” I got a lot of miles out of it – I nursed all of them, Dante the longest to 10 months. You can play that card too, until you see someone who, like my skinny friend, is also nursing and wearing said mesh shorts.

It doesn’t matter how quick we snap back or don’t. There are fools out there who are clueless. My skinny friend (she’s going to love that moniker) told me her brother came to visit her. He looked at her and said, “You’ve still got a belly like you’re pregnant,” accusingly, like as if she was holding out and maybe that baby in her arms wasn’t hers at all, maybe she just faked the whole birthing process to avoid the pain. She called him an ass and would have probably got up and smacked him, except for the fact that she was laying down in a hospital bed at the time. So she told him, “Gee, Bob, that is really surprising, considering I had the baby a whole FOUR HOURS AGO!!! Boy, you’d think after having 3 kids in 4 years, my body could morph itself back in shape after an hour or two. With your amazing natural intuitive abilities, how are you not in med school?”

Damn, I’ve only been able to think about wanting ice cream for the last 5 paragraphs. Got to go.