Say something mean and I'll sit on you.

So, I've been noticing that my pants have been somewhat snug lately and that I've acquired an interesting amount of backfat. Yeah, that's right. Backfat. Y'know, bra-hang. Shoulderblade love-handles. I've been chalking it up to the kid growing in my belly and the hormones being produced. At my last doctor's appointment at the beginning of March, I gained a total of 4 lbs between visits and the doctor seemed pleased with this.

Ummmm....yeah......

I just got back from the doctor's office. In 28 days, I've gained NINE POUNDS!. What the hell is that? I hopped on the scale and was staring at the scale/weight/thingies while the nurse was adjusting it. Counting on my fingers, I figured I HAD to be wrong. I looked at the nurse and asked her what the total poundage for the month was. "Oh, it looks like about 9 pounds. Could be a lot of fluid." Of course, she says this with an apologetic laugh that doesn't quite do the job of calming my hysterics. I mentioned the weight gain to the doctor and he didn't seem too phased by it. He said that he'd really like to see only a 2 or 3 pound gain for the next visit and if it was another big jump, then we'd take some action.

The black cloud of fat is hanging over my head today. I'm having visions of my big-girl days and I'm a little bit bummed about it. As I type this, I think about all of the evil women who casually say that they've only gained three or four pounds and they're well into their 5th month. All I can say to them is that I hate you and I hope cellulite from the heavens falls upon your ass.


Update: This entire rant has been meaningless. I just did the math and realized that since I go back and forth between my doctor's two offices, I haven't been in this office for two months. I've actually only gained 4 pounds in the past month. I will sheepishly back out of this post now...carry on.