Christmas is coming, and I am getting ... huge: I asked one of our page designers to change the name of this column for this week because I just can't bring myself to write for something titled "The Skinny." I am about 100 months pregnant and as wide as I am tall, and there is nothing thin, slender, sleek or svelte about me right now.
I realize that being with child in the state with the nation's highest birthrate is nothing new or special. And I am sure that there are more than a few readers out there who can't see their feet anymore either. To them I say, "Have another milkshake."
Actually, I'm doing a little better with this pregnancy than my last. With my first child, I had a McDonald's Egg McMuffin nearly every single day of my pregnancy and put on a solid 50 pounds. At the time, I told myself that eating the 300-calorie slab of breakfast goodness was a sacrifice I was making for the baby. So was downing a nightly milkshake, and chasing that with a candy bar.
It took me more than a year to lose that extra 50 pounds, so I vowed that this pregnancy I would be better. For the most part, I've done OK. I've eaten healthier, exercised more, and severely limited my Egg McMuffin consumption. Yet, still, it seems like every part of my body is expanding to make room for baby. This includes my feet, arms and chin, all parts, which, last time I checked, don't actually house an infant.
I still have to make it through the Sundance resort's Thanksgiving buffet and plenty of holiday nibbling before Bundle of Joy No. 2 makes his debut. And as each day passes, my goal of gaining only 25 pounds this pregnancy seems more insane and laughable. In fact, I'm about to the point of throwing in the dietary towel and just embracing my Stay Puft Marshmallow Man moment. Pass the stuffing and pumpkin pie. It's all for the baby, I swear.
-- Elyssa Andrus
This article appeared in The Daily Herald on Nov. 14, 2007. See http://www.heraldextra.com/content/view/243370/149/
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