Today is a day I was dreading. It was the first doctor's appointment after the end of the first trimester. A day when you most dread getting on a scale because frankly you have been doing whatever it takes to just get by. Any of you who have been pregnant before know the dread of getting on the scale. Because with the scale comes the lecture. Yet even in this dark hour, I have found a ray of hope.
A doctor's office that has the scale in the bathroom. Where you take your own weight behind a locked door and you operate on the honor system. Anyone who has ever been pregnant knows that there is no honor in pregnancy.
My friend Jennifer, who is 7 1/2 months pregnant, expressed outrage at this.
J: That is just wrong.
K: Are you saying that because you think it's morally reprehensible or are you saying that because you can't do it?
J: So you don't have ANYONE making fun of you as you take off your shoes to try to make yourself light as possible?
K: You don't even have to be HONEST. Who's gonna know?
Derek was mortified that I would lie about my pregnancy weight. Knock yourself out, beeotch. Because when given an opportunity, a woman will lie about her weight. And I have only two men in my life right now--Ben and Jerry. And they love me unconditionally and want me to be happy. They ask nothing in return and just give, give, give. So if I had to take creative license with the truth in order to avoid a breakup with B&J, I was gonna do it.
On the way to the doctor, I explain this all to my husband, to include the fact that I have not done my "homework" for this appointment, which was to document 48 hours of my eating habits. I have not done this because I have not had a good 48 hour stretch.
D: Wasn't there those two days when you...
K: Nope.
D: Didn't you have salad for dinner?
K: One day. Then I ate a box of Kraft Mac and Cheese for lunch the next day.
D: The whole box?
K: Didn't even give the boy a bite. And I didn't make the low fat version either.
D: How about the day...
K: I had ice cream. And if I could only put down "ice cream" that would be fine. But I am required to put down how much and frankly, "1/2 gallon" just will not look good on paper. But I maintain my body needed calcium.
D: Babe, you are bad.
K: Whatever. Can you hand me a tums?
But then a miracle occurred. I didn't have to lie about my weight because despite eating MY WEIGHT in Chubby Hubby, I only gained 3 pounds in 4 weeks. And when I explained my dietary homework problem to the midwife, she said, and I quote....
"You have to do what it takes to get you through this. So if you need to eat a 1/2 gallon of ice cream, you can."
I refrained from kissing her on the lips. I picked my husband off the floor where he had collapsed and danced out of the office feeling better than I had in weeks.
I'm sure I'm just faking this for the ice cream. And to get out of sex.
