When I'm not pregnant, I'm decently satisfied by my appearance. But I frequently find myself saying, "If I could just lose those last ten pounds, I would be smoking hot." I'll have an interior monologue, with strident Shelah saying things like "it wouldn't be too hard" and "you'd finally be skinnier than your mom" (although I wouldn't) and slothful Shelah winning out with statements like "think of all the salads you'd have to eat," "you'd never have hot fudge again" and "ten pounds? that's not enough that anyone would ever notice."
I went to the doctor yesterday and was expecting to see a major jump in the numbers on the scale from last month. I mean, I've gotten huge in the last four weeks. My belly is no longer concealable, my butt is expanding, and even my upper arms are taking on a padded appearance. Imagine my surprise when I learned that I had only gained two pounds, for a nine pound total gain. So here, in pictures for you all to see, is the difference ten pounds (ok nine) and twenty-four weeks makes.
Here I am in April:
And here's one from San Antonio last week:
The second picture really doesn't do justice to the belly or the fat rump, but you can see the chubby arms. So I've decided that my most favorite excuse (that no one would notice a measly ten pounds) no longer holds water. I'm going to be looking back at these pictures in about five more months when I'll be trying to motivate myself to shrink down to wear a bridesmaid's dress for my sister's wedding.
--originally posted 9/13/06
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