Wednesday, November 14, 2012

I am not a cow.

FYI, while describing a true and aggravating struggle of mine- this post is meant to be funny.  So laugh:)

I'm large.

But I don't feel anywhere near in charge.

I have gained a grand total of 37 pounds thus far in the pregnancy.  Still shy of the 40 I gained the first time and the 56 I gained the second time.  But we've got the quickest weight gain weeks left to go and I feel huge.

It's a stupid struggle with vanity.  I know that.

I'm pregnant, not fat.  I know that, too.  This will end.  My body will return to a healthy weight.  And numbers don't even matter in this case of creating an entire human body. 

But that hasn't stopped the thoughts from coming into my head with more frequency in the past week-ish.

When I lean back on the couch and feel my legs start to fall asleep from constricted blood flow after a mere five minutes.  "Girl.  You huge."

When I walk past the large mirror in the bathroom.  "Gah!"

When I have to wake up fully and heave myself, grabbing onto the bed frame for an anchor, just to turn over to my other side.  When I limp and waddle my way to the mailbox.  When the 10th person in 30 minutes at church asks me how many days I have left in this pregnancy.  Whenever I see my hands.  Or my face.  Or my thighs.  Really any part of me between my eyes and my knees (excepting my elbows!). When I get dressed only to realize that I've outgrown another maternity shirt. 


"I AM NOT A COW!"  I tell myself this countless times a day.  I have done a much better job this time around of treating my body well- eating well, drinking plenty, keeping my feet up when possible, and though I have great room to improve in the exercising department- it's not hard to stay active in my life.  And honestly, I can see positive differences because of that.  My blood pressure has been "really great" says the nurse, whereas it's been high at the end of my previous pregnancies.  I don't have constant cankles yet (crossing my fingers they stay away altogether).  I do have "pregnancy face," but it's much less pronounced this time.  Sicknesses have been short-lived (knock on wood).

Despite the fact that I'm older (and I can feel it!), despite the fact that this is my third pregnancy and I'm bound to gain more, despite the fact that I feel healthier (body AND mind) than I have in years- I am excessively tempted to feel like a cow.

Most of the time I can pep talk myself away from that particular cliff.  But...lemme tell you tonight's tale...

The light in our garage has a motion sensor.  Every night I open the garage door, stick my head out, and check to make sure the outside door is shut and all lights are off in the cars before I lock the inside door.  The motion sensor is just to the left, on the same wall as the door.  It's a pet peeve of mine that I don't make that light turn on, especially when I just want to quick grab something out of the van.  As long as I stick close to the wall, it can't tell I'm in there and stays off. 

But tonight.  Tonight I heifered, I mean hefted! myself off the couch and pep talked my way to the garage about pregnancy, good health, and all that jazz.  I opened the door and stuck half my head out to see the outside door...and the light click on.

"Hang your head in shame, fathead."

I used to be able to get my entire body in and out of the garage without tripping that light.

Now half my head is all it takes.

*siiiiiiiigh*  BUT. I. AM. NOT. A. COW.

Nope.  Surrrrre aren't...

However, I will not deny that I am far too vain for my own emotional sanity...

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