Without sounding egotistical, I lost a crap load of weight-FINALLY-after my second child. It happened about a year ago, but for some reason, people are just noticing now. That would sound egotistical if you knew the numbers we’re dealing with here and if I hadn’t gained a million pounds each time I was pregnant and looked like a marshmallow version of myself each time.
It’s not like I’m supermodel slim. I’m not even model slim. Actually, I’m not even slim, but I’m fine. I’m my kind of normal. I’m back into all of my old clothes and it no longer takes me hours to find the one shirt that hides stomach rolls AND back fat, or pants that don’t make that awful red mark around my belly after 2 minutes.
But I did feel like a whale for a good 3 years. And I have to tell you, I felt alone in that whale-ness because everywhere I looked, I had all of these adorable, tiny, little pregnant friends. You know the ones with the cute basketball tummies who look totally skinny from the back? Now, they probably didn’t follow the same pizza, Taco Bell, ice cream diet I followed, but still. It’s not fair!
Even listening to Tori Spelling talk about her “crazy” weight gain made me feel like hanging my big, fatty, fat self…she got all the way up to 140 pounds with her first child! Oh, the horror!
And the tabloids helped me compare my “real person” body to celebrity role models like a post-anorexic Nicole Richie, one of those Kardashian people (the smallest one), the always stunning Halle Berry, and countless other famous mommies-to-be. It was awesome watching myself grow to three or four times the size of one of their legs.
So I’m a little jealous of pregnant girls now. I mean, it has to be beyond wonderful to be a preggo while watching someone like Jessica Simpson grow during her pregnancy to the size of, well, of me during my pregnancies. And yes, the difference is that no one tracked my weight gain in Star Magazine, but I also didn’t take naked pictures a la Demi Moore for an international fashion magazine. Nor did I go on a talk show and admit to having swamp ass, which I’m assuming means sweaty crack. For the record, I did NOT have that. I had a lot of stuff, but not that. And even if I did, I probably wouldn’t admit it. I’m fine admitting that I weighed as much as a large man, but even I would not discuss anything that went on in my Hanky Pankys in writing (if you really need to know, call me, we’ll talk).
Regardless of Jessica’s Preg-Zilla condition and the TMI relationship that she’s having with the entire world, she does remind me that there are a few things you should never, ever, ever say to a (normal, not-Jessica Simpson) pregnant lady:
- How many babies do you have in there? I got that one so many times, I considered carrying around a plastic baby doll with me after my first was born just so I could say I got so large because there WERE two babies in there!
- Are you still pregnant? For the record, it takes most babies at least nine months to cook. It’s not going to go on for much longer than that and it’s actually impossible to be pregnant for an entire year, so if a woman still has the baby in her stomach, yes, she’s actually STILL pregnant and very sorry for taking soooo long to have a child. What a dumb question.
- Are you going to have more? Seriously? Seriously? I mean, if a person has another human being growing in her belly, the last thing she’s probably thinking about is how many more times she’s going to do it. She probably IS thinking about her swollen feet, her dwindling clothing options, her brand new double chin, her back pain, and figuring out how to tie her shoes. Oh yeah, and how the hell she’s going to push a watermelon through a peep hole without dying from pain.
I’m not saying that I always say the right thing. I have definitely been guilty of asking friends the wrong questions at the wrong time but I do make sure to stay away from those particular points. And I can promise you’ll never hear me ask if someone is pregnant! I don’t care if you’re nine months and wearing a shirt that says “Due in November”.
Unless your water breaks in the middle of our conversation, I ain’t asking!