I'm now in my 39th weeks pregnant with my third son. I've made no secret that I'm not a huge fan of being pregnant and now I must admit to the fact that I'm...just plain HUGE. I told myself I wouldn't get this way this time...but I let it happen. I gave myself license to eat things I would never normally touch. Because of my discomfort, I stopped exercising, which I had vowed not to do. Basically, I had planned on doing "everything right" this time around. Ummm...not so much.
Back during the summer between junior high and high school my battle with weight began. I packed on a good 20 to 30 pounds that summer. From there I yo-yo'ed up and down for most of high school. I used to gain and lose weight so quickly that I once "outgrew" my clothes while on our family's two-week vacation and had to wear my dad's jeans. No teenage girl wants that to happen.
My senior year in high school, I finally got all of the weight off and dropped to about 108. I went on the most unhealthy of weight loss plans--I barely ate. Mixed with my new love of swimming on the swim team, I was what I thought to be fabulously slim and trim. That is until one day a friend told me that I was a little too slim and trim. She had me look in the mirror and pointed out to my purtruding collar bones. I was not just thin but way too thin. She told that I was so thin that I was wasting away and that she couldn't see me any more until I got my problem under control. That was a wake-up call for me.
For most of college and into my married life, I had my weight issues under control. I straddled the line between thin and too thin carefully and tried not to get to hard on myself when I would fluxuate by five pounds every now and then.
After my first baby, I lost most of the weight within the first year or so. With my second child, I lost most of the weight in about a year too, but that year was very, very difficult for me. I fell into my old feelings about my body and let my issues about weight consume me. My body image and how I appeared to people around me plagued my thoughts.
And now, I'm huge again. I've never made it this far in a pregnancy; my other sons had already been born by this far along. I'm so incredibly uncomfortable, it is hard for me to move, which means I just keep getting bigger and bigger. (I swear that this baby is going to rip through my ribs at any moment.) It's gotten to the point that I don't even want to look at myself in the mirror when I'm wearing a tank top or (GASP) naked.
I have a feeling in the months to come, I will be dealing a lot with my weight issues and the troubling roller coaster of pounds and emotions I have been on since I was so very young. It's my thing, it makes me crazy, and I will undoubtedly be putting a lot of pressure on myself to look like I used to. I'm just warning you now, because this will probably be the place where I vent and cry and whine.