It's a horrible thing but my vanity is really running my life right now. My body keeps getting bigger and every fiber of my being hates it. Maybe that makes me a bad mommy. I read all of these articles and blogs and advice that says enjoy your body changing and the reason behind your transformation- I can't. I hate those articles. Those articles are, for me, similar to being totally ticked off and having someone tell you to "turn that frown upside down" or my all-tim least favorite "you catch more bees with honey than vinegar". When I'm pissed and someone says that junk to me I want to punch them in their face. And since I'm totally insecure with my body and having such an unbearable time adjusting- reading those articles about loving your body and embracing the growth seriously make me want to punch someone. I have such anxiety about this weight gain- even though I know it has to happen in order for Noah to be healthy. I am so self conscious, always have been, and being pregnant hasn't changed that one bit. Not one bit. Now instead of comparing my body to other women my age, my friends, celebrities- I still do that and additionally compare my pregnant body to other pregnant women's bodies. Double trouble. I've been working my behind off. An hour spin class every day- sweat baby sweat! I go either before or after I work a full days labor- and I love it. The spin class helps. I can tell an immediate change. It gets my endorphines pumping and I truly enjoy being healthy and working out! I get obsessed over it- and that's not a bad thing because being healthy is a great place to have focus. What is bad now is that when I'm weighing in despite meticulously counting calorIE, managing my diet, plus the hour long turbo spin classes: I am still gaining weight. No biggie, right? I know it's supposed to happen that way, but my ego- my emotions- my natural instincts are having a hard time handling it and I feel bad about myself, and get blue. Phooey. This would be so much easier if I weren't pregnant!!! That is all I can think about. If this were me 7-8 months ago the pounds would be dripping off and I'd be creeping closer and closer to 100 pounds instead of closer and closer to creeping past 140. Crud.
I don't want to push it, I'm not willing to starve myself, or jeopardize Noah's health. I'm not crazy, and I'm not suffering from an eating disorder- I just hate not being in control. I want to be able to decide the outcome. I can't, though, because if I were deciding then my decision would be to lose weight- and nature says that isn't possible, not without compromising those things that I'm not willing to compromise. Sheesh. A little over 11 weeks - then I'll have not only an amazingly perfect little daughter but hopefully only the standard six weeks to wait before I can fully submerge myself in some serious dieting and exercising. Then I'll be able to do it without having to worry that I'm endangering my unborn child.
My biggest mistake yet? Looking back at the facebook album from last fall before I got pregnant. Idiot move. I don't even recognize myself anymore.
For now, I just keep on working out, sticking to my diet regiment, and praying for strength. Praying for some enlightenment, and praying to get through this last trimester!!!! Send up some prayers, good thought, well wishes- whatever you feel so inclined to do for me! Love, Layne