Tag Archive | gaining weight when pregnant

3 days until I give birth at Hotel Matilda

How fucking exciting.  Oh and its the year of the Dragon which is hugely lucky in China (I was also born in the year of the Dragon but do not consider myself a lucky person).

BTW.. The photo above scared the crap out of my 2 year olds (as well as The Captain & I) when we popped downstairs to show them some “culture” on Chinese New year.  Even now, the Captain keeps waking, screaming, “man with a mask!! man with a mask!!”

Anyhow… I can’t wait to start Gina Ford all over again and am soooo looking forward to the sleepless days/nights, 3 hourly feeds, nap times, endless bottles, nappies filled with various colours of shit (yellow being my least favourite, along with the ones that keep on coming while you’re mid nappy change & resemble sausages).  And the lack of sleep!  Ahh… boy can’t I wait to walk around like a crazy, tired, unkempt Mum, dyyyyying to sleep…anywhere.  PLUS, my 2-year-old Twins have NO idea that life as they know it is soon going to change.  Yes, I’m so excited.  The excitement is seeping out of my every pore.

What will be my first port of call on having given birth?  A romantic dinner for two with The Captain?  Time alone with Itchy and Scratchy reading books and cuddling?  No. Sorry.  It turns out I’m a selfish bitch.  All I want, aside from a healthy child, is a big bottle of champagne (with a straw) just for me and maybe a quick call to the local dealer for a few ounces of class A’s.   Hey…I’m celebrating starting all over again and I need to do some things properly.  Not just that but after a year of non-stop Pilates, that body has now been beaten to shit and resembles a 50-year-old Northern pub Landlandys body after one too many Friday night Fish n Chips.  Depressing?  Hell yes.

Why lie and say “I’m sooo excited and screw what I look like?”   The truth is, I’ve found it pretty depressing looking more and more like a bag of lard as the months have rolled on.  No, I havent gained as much weight as I did with the twins (2.5 stone to be exact) but still, I personally find it hard going when the weight piles on without much effort.  Vain?  Yes, but I don’t care.  I’m a woman for fucks sake!   We are vain to a certain extent….unless you’re a raging lesbo with a crew cut and moustache (yeh, whatever, I’m generalizing).  I hate that I can’t bend down to put my shoes on, hence why I now live in my wooly sock Uggs.  I hate that my skin keeps getting breakouts (I’ve never had bad skin, EVER) and resembles a 13-year-old zit covered boys (minus stubble).  I hate that when I look in the mirror, a different person is looking back at me.  Pregnant women are beautiful?  Whoever said that is clearly a chubby chaser as I am not feeling one ounce of sexy or beauty.  In fact, I look and feel like total shit.  AND, for those women who ARE pregnant and swaning around the place looking all wonderful….please fuck off.  You are really annoying me.  AND stop showing me your flat bellies?!!! Why would you do this to someone who is clearly pregnant and suffering mentally!?

Excited about the new arrival?  Sure, once she’s here, I’ll be fine but until then, I’m going to keep moaning and boring the crap out of everyone.   I mean, I’m sooo bored, I can’t even be bothered to watch the Kardashians on E! Hollywood, go for a walk (apparently good for you when pregnant although I didn’t do this last time either), entertain myself with belly flops in the swimming pool, or even leave the apartment.  Hmmm…. maybe I’m depressed?   Nope.   I think I’m just missing being a drunken, happy, skinny Mum.  Now, I’m soooo huge, I can only wear stretchy tracksuit bottoms, bras that are 8 sizes bigger (The Captain is not complaining about the huge boobs though…surprise surprise)… the huge list on how unattractive I feel right now is endless.  The poor Captain keeps saying “I want my Wife back!” while I’m covered in sexy spot cream, looking like the grim reaper.  Oh, and just to add insult to injury, do you want to know what my supportive better half did a few weeks ago?  He RECORDED me snoring, then PLAYED it to his work colleague.  He then emailed me a link to this monstrosity, stating, “I think there was a Rhino in the bed last night?”  Supportive git.  I beat him with a wooden spoon that night.

Ok, so, another part of my character that has developed since I fell pregnant (and which I’ve mentioned in past posts), is that I’m angry.  Now, I don’t mean a “little angry”, I’m talking, fly off the handle, screaming, swearing like a mother fucker trucker, ANGRY.  I get sooo angry over things that all I want to do is shout, OR, cry.  Yes, the crying is also there. I can break out in tears at any given minute, even while shouting, eating three triple Big Mac & having chocolate… all at the same time (because I can multi-task).  The ONLY time, I’m still me (albeit a boring version as I’m sober), is when I’m with my little munchkins, Itchy & Scratchy.  They are the only ones keeping me sane.  Ok, so they don’t get they’re going to have a new sister but it’ll keep me entertained for a while, watching them interact with their new sibling.  Especially once I crack open that first bottle of white wine….

Roll on next week as Yummy Mamma is about to return ….. and she deeply misses her booze & skinny jeans.

POSITION OF THE WEEK – BELOW

I would call this one “Having a few too many on a Friday night…& inviting others for a “menage a quatre”.  Don’t ask me what the blue bunny is doing but it looks to me like the Tasmanian Devil instigated the whole thing.

Getting fat…

So for those of you who have experienced the joys of being pregnant, you may recall watching in sheer horror when you got on those bathroom scales, and noted you were officially a FAT COW.  Now, for someone like me, who I have to admit, is slightly obsessed with staying thin after gaining 14 pounds in their FIRST year of University (trust me…. it was not a pretty sight when I’m only 5 ft 3 & usually a size 6-8 UK).  The fear of gaining any weight since I shifted it all, is always there.  I worked out (in between visits to a pub/bar/lunch with an alcoholic friend), I watched what I ate and if necessary, I didn’t eat and simply drank (yes, yes…shoot me).

Ask any fat person whose lost weight and is determined to keep it off what their fear is and they will say you just can’t let it creep back because before you know it, you’re doing midnight runs to MacDonald’s (or any open Petrol station) to get a junk food fix.  I do have to admit my incredible weight gain at University was not because I was about to star in the next Bridget Jones movie, but due to copious amounts of  smoking skunk (oh go judge elsewhere if you’re going to turn your nose up at this now as I LOVE SKUNK, or loved… not had it for a v v v long time now), which was followed by the munchies (usually Chinese takeaway or a greasy Kebab at 3am), and an INCREDIBLE amount of beer.  I actually thought I was one of the guys.  In fact, I still do but as I now have a sensible Husband to keep me in check, this side of my personality gets cut short very quickly when he sees me even attempting to join a drinking competition at any party/bar/pub/wedding.  I just can’t help myself… especially when there’s Vodka, Wine or Champagne.  He just knows I’m like a moth to a flame and tries to steer me away from any potential scenes later that may include dancing on a bar (Coyote Ugly style), getting into a street fight or falling in my 6 inch YSL’s that I only wear on very special occasions.

Therefore when this pregnancy began, I initially walked around all smug (ok, and depressed because I was missing white wine) as I had barely gained any weight and in fact, no one noticed I was pregnant (at first).  Well, fast forward 6.5 months (YES IM ALMOST THERE!!!) and I suddenly felt my arse jiggle as I walked to the shops to buy some ice cream yesterday (it wasn’t for me honest).  ARSE JIGGLE?! What the hell is next?!?!  Turkey chin?  Bingo wings?When I gain weight, my face starts to fill out first and I HATE it, simply because I look like I’ve stuffed 2 ping-pong balls into my mouth and grown an extra tire around my neck, Kimora Lee Simmons stylie (I love her so that’s not me being mean, but I feel like I’ve developed that horrid “sausage neck” effect).  Plus, as the Twins are only now 20 months old, they still don’t seem to get what the hell is going on with Mummy.  I mean…. I’ve gone from being Yummy to Fatty and they havent even batted an eyelash.  Does this mean that (a) There’s something wrong with them? in which case, I’m going to have to start looking for a Specialist pediatrician, or (b) Is this what they mean by “unconditional love”, that they havent even noticed that Mummy has turned into a fat cow?

During all my moaning, where has The Captain been? Well, lucky for him, he’s had loads of travelling to do which means, I’ve been able to sleep in the middle of our bed, with the air con on while it is now considered “winter time in Hong Kong” (this is Summer time in London) and I’m not trying to hammer his ballsack to the wall every time he speaks.  I appreciate that pregnancy hormones make women crazy but I think his lack of “doting” on me this time round (I mean, ok, I’ve had twins so this really should be a breeze…plus its Baby No. 3 so get over it already) but I expected him to be a little more…. I dunno….. pandering to my every whim maybe?  

When that doesn’t happen, I now just beat him verbally/emotionally until I burst into tears screaming “I JUST CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!!” while he stands there, in disbelief, unsure what I’m actually talking about.  He just thinks I’ve lost the plot and keeps saying “You were nothing like this last time you were pregnant!?”  which winds me up even more. I mean, purrrrlease!! Last time was planned and clearly controlled with a number of IVF drugs!!  This time was not only a huge shock (we can’t recall when the deed happened but are sure it involved Vodka Jelly shots) but I’ve got toddlers running around (one of which head butted me yesterday right in the middle of my tummy while attempting a hug) and I can’t bloody sleep even if I wanted to.  I was expecting to spend afternoons leisurely watching “E Hollywood” and all the crappy TV one can find (seriously HK has SHIT TV) and yet, nope… none of that’s happening.  I don’t even know what’s happening with The Kardashians for christs sake!!!?!

I guess the lack of alcohol has also made me feel like I’m in my own Chinese version of  “The Priory” (a well-known rehab clinic in SW London).  I’ve had all sorts of comments on my radiant, glowing complexion (now the crazy pregnancy zits/fucking awful boil-type pimples are finally going) and this is all due to a serious lack of, well anything naughty.  I’m bored to tears (literally) but also excited to see this next baby and get back to my old body, my old alcoholic ways and being fun again.  

Right now, when I actually see other people drinking and enjoying themselves over lunch, all I want to do is go take a massive dump  (AKA. shit) in the middle of their table and tell them to piss off.  Yep… pregnancy hormones clearly make you crazy.