Well it doesn't make me cry, but it does make me concerned.
I was overweight according to my BMI or something before I got pregnant. I was actually making some progress towards my goal as far as fat percentages etc, and then I got pregnant immediately.
I don't look fat when not pregnant, but I've been lucky and carry my weight well. Still, I can't help but remember lower scale numbers and and easier time buying clothes (as well as looking fantastic in a bikini).
Then came pregnancy. It's one of the times women are allowed to eat a lot of food without feeling too guilty...or so they say...except that's a lie.
Even though I've packed on the pounds according to my scale, I'm not big. It is still possible to hide my belly depending on what I wear (owing mostly to other parts of me that continue to grow...ahem). I don't feel like I've gained a ton of weight. I only eat when I'm hungry, which is good. It just happens to be that I'm hungry all the time.
When I eat, I try to make sure I eat enough. I have tried to eat more fruits and veggies thinking that might help me eat less over all, but I end up eating the same amount of protein and carbs as I would otherwise...just in a binge causing more heartburn. Grrr.
That protein is what I need. It's what kiddo needs. I know that. I know it because it is what I seek out consciously and subconsciously on a minute by minute basis. I know it's going mostly to my baby because I don't see the major size changes happening in my arms or legs...in fact, I think my thighs have gotten a little skinnier.
That's just weird.
But even though I know these things, and can see them somewhat, I can't help but hear that small voice in the back of my brain when I catch sight of dimples on my thighs, or fat rolling on my side. I can't help but scowl at my thickening ankles and swollen calves. In my mind, I shouldn't look like this pregnant. I should look smoother, more sleek, just like the models in pregnancy magazines.
And then I think, those bastards have screwed me up again!
It wasn't enough that I felt insecure about my body in high school, or that I still wanted to get rid of that last bit of belly fat in college. It wasn't enough that I poked and prodded myself in the mirror examining every square inch for imperfections, wishing wholeheartedly that I could erase certain parts of my body and THEN I would be beautiful.
No, you had to fricking ruin pregnancy too.
Goddamn you people! There's a special place in hell for people who perpetuate this anti-woman psychological torture machine.
I know it's a racket. I know I'm beautiful (even if I want to be *more* so to fit into these bizarre media metrics). So I try to look at the parts of me I like, while ignoring those I don't. I try to focus on the fact that kiddo needs the food I'm shoveling into my face. It's not some weird emotional response or need for comfort or some unhealthy disorder. I'm actually doing what I'm supposed to be doing. I keep saying this to myself over and over again.
But I really hope this weight disappears after kiddo is out. At that point, thankfully I can return to criticizing my faults in peace.