It's been the week from hell at work, and I am glad to be in my pajamas on the couch, even though it's only 9 p.m. We had antipasto for dinner and fondue for dessert and I'm all smiles now.
Earlier in the week, I had my monthly check in with the OB. Zygote is looking healthy and happy, but unfortunately may end up being smothered to death by all my fat. In the first 20 weeks of pregnancy, I gained about 7 pounds and was wondering if I was gaining quick enough. Then in the last few weeks, I've been putting on about 2 pounds a week. Because of all my freakin' issues, I was slightly worried, but then figured that I was just being...well, me.
Then I got to the OB. First the nurse noted that the recent gain was "not good," and then the doctor gave me the more polite "undesirable." They said that I should work out more and limit my sweets, fats, eat more whole grains, blah, blah. I said that I had heard you weren't supposed to diet when you were pregnant. "But it's not a diet." WHATEVER.
Being me, I've spent the week being bipolar. One part of me is feeling horrible and shamed and obsessing about working out, even though I am already working out 4 times a week. My evil twin is screaming, "Are you fucking kidding me? I am PREGNANT. I'm supposed to gain weight." All of me is feeling extremely frustrated.
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