The Weight Of It All

You know the age old weight game.  Don't weigh too much, don't weigh too little... have curves, but not too many... be fit, but not too fit... etc. etc.  We are faced with our weight every day.  The way our clothes fit, the way our mirror reflects us, and at the checkout of every grocery store whether it's 1) the enormous grocery bill and cart filled with ice cream and bonbons, or 2) the stunningly beautiful model on the front of every single glossy magazine staring at you while you ashamedly whip out your credit card to pay for all of that ice cream and bonbons.

And then there is The Number.  You know, the number that when you see it on the scale you immediately (and simultaneously) begin to sweat profusely, feel the tears welling up and have an overwhelming urge to do truly terrible things to that evil bathroom scale.  REALLY terrible things.  Remember that copier from Office Space?  That's nothing compared to what I have in mind...

We've been trained our entire lives to fight the good fight, to be a certain weight or die trying!  It's enough to drive even the most intelligent and self-assured woman (or man!) absolutely, freakin', bonkers.

And then, enter pregnancy... Game changer!

You're supposed to "eat for two" (but not too much), get plenty of exercise (but not too hard), gain weight (but not too much), be calm and peaceful (but not lazy), eat what your body is craving (unless it's fatty, sugary, oily, or tastes even remotely good), drink lots of fluids (but not anything fake, or with caffeine, or alcohol, not from the tap, or tea, or soda, or __________ <-------- insert pretty much every other liquid here), and on, and on, and on...  Your body is no longer your own and it's terrifying!

What I am going to admit to you next is actually incredibly hard to say/type, but I am going to do it anyway.  Ready?  Ok.

Since I've gotten pregnant, every time I get on the scale I immediately feel a hot wave of embarrassment rush over me.  Embarrassed by the number that I am looking at, embarrassed that someone might find out that number, embarrassed that I feel so vulnerable and ashamed about something so trivial, and worst of all, embarrassed that I even care... How sad.

I think every woman believes that when she gets pregnant she won't mind the weight gain - that she'll be able to write it off as "just the baby" and enjoy the opportunity to eat a few extra calories without any guilt.  Wrong.  At least, that hasn't been true for me.  I know every woman is different, but I would venture to say that I'm not the only one to struggle with this.  Logic will tell you that you are creating a human life and that a few extra pounds shouldn't matter in the grand scheme of things.  Every medical textbook, doctor and WebMD will tell you that weight gain is required and that it is a crucial part of your growing baby's development.  So.  You should feel totally fine about the extra 25-35 pounds that you're supposed to pack on, right?  I don't know, maybe I'm just extra vain, but it just seems like a hard pill to swallow.  Let's face it, in a culture consumed by weight, even gaining 5 pounds can send us spiraling into a full daylong pity party.  So, 25 pounds?  Yup, just a little stressful.

Now don't get me wrong, I am ecstatic to be pregnant, and blessed to have this lil' kiddo growing inside of me.  You can't go through growing a human being and hold on to vanity, it just doesn't work that way (unless you're Kim Kardashian...?).  Clearly, the health of the baby is the top priority and the scale will just have to deal with it, but I still think that this is a really important thing to talk about.

Where am I going with this?  If you read this blog then you know the spiel - I chat about something, talk about different perspectives and then wrap it all up with a nice little bow at the end.  But this is not that kind of post.  Today is about being vulnerable and open about something that I have struggled with.  I am sharing something that is hard for me because I think it's important for people to know, and it's not something that often gets mentioned.  And, honestly, it's also an overall public service announcement to everyone out there who knows or encounters a preggo :)

Here are a few helpful hints:

• Don't say anything about weight.  Ever. No, seriously.  Even if you think it's complimentary. I've heard the "Oh, but you look too thin to be pregnant" line a few times, and while it's meant to be a genuine compliment, it usually just makes the preggo feel like their body is under constant scrutiny.  Just steer clear.  Stick with "You look so great!" or "You're glowing" and you'll be fine :)  Side note on this, I personally think it's fine to talk about the "baby bump", but some women are even uncomfortable with this, so try and figure out if it seems to bother the preggo in your life.
• Have a little grace with your preggo friend/fam... Not only are their hormones going c-r-a-y, but their bodies feel completely out of their control.  So try and bear with them as they try on the 30th shirt of the evening and lament that they "feel SO fat" and "will never fit into those jeans again!"  
• For God sake, do not touch their belly!  Think back to one of your "fat days" - how would you feel if someone came up to you and just randomly started rubbing your belly, the thing you're already self conscious about, without even asking?!  If you're a close friend or family member, go ahead and ask the preggo if they are comfortable with it, but do not expect that they will be.  And if you're a random stranger, just keep your hands to yourself weirdo :)
• If you're at a healthy weight prior to getting preggo you're supposed to gain 25 to 35 pounds (more if you were underweight, and less if you were already overweight). Even if that doesn't sound like a lot to you, it can feel really overwhelming (and in my case, embarrassing) to the preggo.  Don't try to ease their fears, downplay it, or make them "feel better" about the weight gain.  Just love them, support them, help them make wise choices, and, if it's been a particularly hard day, be prepared to hand over most of the tub of Ben and Jerry's that you were supposed to "share"... all in the name of love :)  

So, that's it.  I've bared my soul.  If you made it this far you're either a very good friend of mine, or you've been pregnant before and some of this resonates with you. Thanks for listening, and I promise to get this blog back to it's regularly scheduled funny business with the next post :)