Ok, so I’m standing at the trailhead at my new favorite place to go walking- Coldwater Canyon Park- just drinking water and thinking about which trail to take next, and I hear, “Hey! Hey! How far along are you!”
And I’m thinking Oh for fucks sake, some busybody know-it-all is about to get all up in my grillpiece about how I shouldn’t be out here hiking in my delicate condition, and I turn and look and No, Gentle Reader, it is not some busybody,
It is twins.
Coming right at me!
They’re about my age and seriously identical, like right down to their big-like-Paris sunglasses, and they both lay into me with a million questions rapid-fired In The Same Voice all about my pregnant fitness habits.
“Oh my god, you’re adorable. Do you work out? You work out right? Are you at the gym every day? How many calories do you eat every day? You don’t know?! Look at you, you are just all baby, do you do yoga? Do you eat meat? I’m pregnant too, are you tired all the time I’m tired all the time! I’d better start walking every day too. And what about blah blah blah blah blah?!”
And, Gentle Reader, I gotta tell ya, there are few things as surreal as being interrogated/complimented by strangers with the same face and voice, while standing in this amazingly quiet leafy wilderness with hawks soaring overhead and these brilliant blue birds I’ve never even seen before rustling around in the underbrush, all in the middle of one of the biggest, loudest, glitziest, dirtiest cities in the whole country.
The surreal-est part of my Thursday, fer sure.
Plus it totally cheered me up because I’d just been that morning to see the midwives, and all news was good news except that I’d gained a surprising amount of weight in the past couple weeks, and, like, I was feeling kinda down about the weight, and kinda not in control of it,
See it went like this:
At week 35 the midwives gave me a talking to about how this is the point when a lot of women just give up. Like, they’re hot, they’re tired, they’re huge, and they’ve been so good for so long about eating the right food and not eating sweets and exercising every day and they just say fuck it, I’m over it, I’m eating this entire pack of M&Ms and washing it down with a milkshake, I’ve earned it.
And how, like, that’s not a good thing because although you may have earned it, the weight is basically going on the baby at this point, and the goal is to not have a huge baby because, like, it’s still up to you to push the baby out.
And I was totally on board, like Yes, Stay On The Path Of Righteousness, Do Not Wash Down M&Ms With Milkshakes.
So they weighed me and I was at 29 pounds total gained since the start of the pregnancy. Fine. They said I could have another two to four pounds.
Week 36 they weight me, still at 29 pounds total gain. Great.
Week 37 they didn’t weigh me. Instead of me going to their office where the scale is, they came to my house to visit and make sure we have, like, electricity and running water. Which we do.
Week 38 back at the office, they weigh me. 33 pounds total gain. Four pounds in two weeks. WTF.
They mention that part again about how it’s up to me and only me to push the baby out.
Which is kinda like Only You Can Prevent Forest Fires but, you know, worse.
And I’m like, “But Dudes! I didn’t do anything different! I have no idea why I gained this weight! Or how to not gain more! Whuh happen?”
And it got me thinking about food and how I had assumed eating while pregnant would be way easier that eating during non-pregnant timez. Like, instead of visions of pink tights and mirrored walls coloring all my food decisions, pregnancy would be all fluffy shirts and ice cream on the daily.
And it’s not!
It is all no refined sugar and making sure I get some protein every time I eat and actually feeling slightly worried instead of thrilled when people tell me I look small.
It’s all eating a real breakfast plus vitamins instead of running out the door with coffee.
It’s all suddenly realizing how much pastry and coffee my favorite style blogs feature all the time. Like, oh look, she’s having a mocha with cinnamon and a rainbow of beautiful pastel macaroons again, is she trying to kill me?
This is week 39. I’ll be curious to see what the scale says, but I think I’m not gonna worry about it too much.
I’m still eating better now than the entire rest of my adult life, and Twin Strangers think I look cute, so there.
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