Ok. The shit has truly hit the fan. I've known that the weight is coming back on, but I didn't know things had become this dire. Here's what happened.
My mom and Sophie had a playdate yesterday afternoon. Sweet Aunty Katy asked me if I'd like a hang-out session with her, so we went to get pedicures. Very decadent, I know. So there I am, my calluses being shaved off by a very nice Asian man, sitting a bit reclined in the massagy chair with the rollers working their way up and down my back. I was lulled into a nice foggy place where there was no cat-shit in the sandbox, no chocolate pudding on the walls, no peed in panties in a baggy in my purse.
Then, although she spoke very little English, the lady working on Katy's feet (I'll let Katy tell that story.) managed to say something that totally ruined my afternoon, my day, my year. She patted her stomach, looked at mine, and asked me, "When baby come?" Darkness fell upon me like a plague o'r the land. I answered her coldly, "She's about to turn three." I then picked up the magazine next to me (Elle) and was faced with page after page of skinny-minnie Linsay Lohan pictures. Barf.
A little advice people. Unless you happen to be in the delivery room with her, and actually SEE the baby crowning, DON'T ASK A STRANGER IF SHE'S PREGNANT!
This is the second time this has happened to me. The first was a year after Erik and I were married. We went back to the B&B where we had spent part of our honeymoon for our first anniversary. I had put on about 20 pounds that year--and obviously felt like total shit about it. The first night we were there, the owner of the place motioned to my stomach and said, "I take it congratulations are in order?" I was totally stumped. At first I thought she was referring to the fact that we had made it a year without dismembering each other. Then I realized what she meant. "No," I whispered. "They're not." We left first thing the next morning.
So--the plan is, start South Beach right away, take Sophie swimming or for a long walk every day, and quit going out in public.
Sorry for another long post about my weight. I'll get over my little pity party soon. That comment just really got to me yesterday. Tomorrow I promise more of the exploits of Sophie Gene who is currently being a very good girl and eating her Fruit Loops.
Today's best thing about being a mom:
We're giving a tea party today for my mom and grandma and Katy. We get to go shopping for little dainty treats together, and then we're going to set a pretty table with flowers and doilies and wear dress-up hats.
Today's worst thing about mom:
The temptation to sit on the couch and snack
5 comments:
oh.
my.
god.
this does not only entitle you to blog today, but for at least an entire week about how crappy people are. so please, don't worry about this so-called pity party.
I never say anything about a pregnant woman unless she says something first. even if it's obvious. why don't people realize this???
I loved the part where you were thinking the congrats were for non dismemberment. excellent.
Is that woman certifiably INSANE??? My lord. She is the one in need of dismemberment.
Tea parties and pedicures - I am VERY VERY jealous.
I am so sorry. That totally sucks. A few months after I got married (after having not eaten in 9 months of course) the sweet English challenged woman in the deli at work said to me "Oh, you gain weight like me" with a big smile on her face. Like we were fat buddy's or something. I didn't eat there for 6 months after that.
I have a hard time distinguishing what I weigh from what I'm worth. But really, the two are completely different. I hope you are feeling totally worthy no matter what you look like! You certainly make a difference in my day.
That is so horrible. I can't believe someone would say something like that. People are idiots. I wish fat wasn't something I have to think about every day, but it is.
I am so sorry that happened to you. It sucks when people just blurt things out like that without sending them through their little pea-sized brains first.
I had a little snack attack last night myself. I ate things that would be good for me in moderation, but not when shoveled into my mouth in the space of one half hour. Why is this so hard?
Sometimes, I wish I could just be fat and sassy and happy. But I can't, so Weight Watchers is my weapon of choice. Hope that SBD works for you!
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