"I'm fat". I'll say.
"You're pregnant." Someone will respond.
As if being pregnant magically means you didn't gain ten pounds in each thigh and a good twenty in your ass. To me, overweight is overweight and my ass isn't going to shrink after I push this kid out so I don't feel like I need to be all sensitive about the issue when I'm talking about myself. Still, people get all sorts of worked up about weight and I understand why, I do. I hate when skinny girls bitch about being fat. You assume they have an eating disorder or are fishing for compliments.
I don't have a body image issue, I don't have an eating disorder, it's just really hard to gain a lot of weight in a short period of time, whatever the reason, and the thought of losing all the weight really scares me. I am SO out of shape. Have never felt this terrible in my life. It's going to be hard.
In June of 2009 I weighed between 130 and 133. I never lost the last five pounds from being pregnant with Violet. I currently weigh 185. Fifty-five pounds in nine months. That's like, seven pounds a month or something.
Now listen. I know gaining weight comes with the pregnancy territory and it's not fashionable to call yourself fat while with child but I can tell you that I'm fat. I become so sick during pregnancy that the only way I feel better is by keeping food around at all times. And healthy food doesn't seem to do the trick. Cheese and bread work. Mashed potatoes help a lot. Burritos are indispensable. So I overeat and now I'm fat. And also pregnant.
This has resulted in me not taking as many photos of myself as I did when pregnant with Violet. I feel terribly guilty about this. I mean, like, when my son asks why there aren't as many photos of him in my belly as Violet what do I say? I'm a vain, selfish bitch who was more concerned about what I look like than documenting the beginning of his existence?
So here's what I'm going to do. Post a photo, a very unflattering photo of myself. My amends, if you will, for not documenting this pregnancy more efficiently.
Scenario: I asked Serge to snap a few shots of me the other day. "Just don't get any of my face." I tell him. He's snapping away which makes the dogs agitated which makes Serge agitated and then I get agitated. It's hard to look serene and maternal when your husband is cursing at constantly barking dogs under his breath and then you ask to see some of the photos he's snapped and they suck harder than a hooker going down on Charlie Sheen.
"Dude, what the hell? Are you even looking before you press the button?" Because there my face is, lost in a sea of chins. But before he can respond I leave the room because OH MY GOD. These photos. The worst ever. Remember that movie where Gwyneth Paltrow wears the fat suit. Not so much the fat suit but the make-up and stuff they used to make her face fat? Or when that damn Vanessa Minnillo was running around in a fat suit for Entertainment Tonight to showcase the discrimination faced by overweight people? That's what I feel like.
It's bizarre. Where did I go?
You can see another photo here. This one isn't so bad.