Judging pregnant women for their dietary choices is a fun national past time that I’m sure we can all admit to indulging in at one point. After all, with most areas of motherhood there is little proof that one method of child rearing is more effective than any other. Spanking? I was spanked as a child and don’t feel I have any issues because of it. Bribing? Though recommended against by most experts, the majority of parents use it out of exasperation and their kids turn into functional human beings at some point. But many of the dos and don’ts of a pregnant woman’s diet are regarded as fact, with lines never to be crossed. Though I certainly am not advocating for the intake of caffeine or alcohol during pregnancy (I avoid both whether I am pregnant or not), as the author of this article points out, the science behind the restrictions on a  (singular) cup of coffee or a glass of wine after the first trimester, really isn’t as strong as we might initially believe. And yet few pregnant women enjoy their time spent at Starbucks, even if they are sipping on a hot chocolate or creme frappuccino, because those who “know” the facts about what is best during pregnancy are sending looks of judgement their way. Not an experience anyone wants to have after paying $5 for 12 ounces of liquid.

Even if I did drink coffee or wine I think I probably would have abstained during my pregnancy. Better safe than sorry when it comes to those two substances I think! I admit to eating frozen yogurt while pregnant (although I’m a bit hesitant about this one as I’ve read more into the reasons behind it and I do believe that most machines I’m using to dispense my treat are quite filthy and germ infested), eating deli meat that I judged to be fresh, and indulging in all of the pasteurized soft cheese I wanted over Christmas. Be proactive about your own healthcare! Learn why the guidelines are in place! Drink a glass of wine if you don’t feel like the research you’ve done has proven the side effects you’ve been told are a guarantee. Blah, blah blah, you’ve come to expect this kind of talk from me.

Source

What boggles my mind is that we will turn to one pregnant woman and judge her for having a glass of wine or a cup of coffee, and then turn to the next and encourage her in her efforts to down a slice of chocolate cake as big as her head. “You deserve it!”, the masses purr in the chocolate cake eaters ear, even though excessive amounts of both chocolate cake and a cup of coffee can be harmful to both the body of the woman and her baby. Eating junk is a bad idea pretty much always, but why would we want to be a part of galvanizing a pregnant woman into indulging even more often than normal when she is feeding both herself and her baby whatever crosses her lips for 40 weeks?

I admit to goading this response on a bit as I find it fascinating. I tweet  ”I want to make no bake cookies. Husband accuses me of taking things a bit too far now that I know I don’t gave GD. I plead the fifth.”*, and I receive several replies telling me to indulge because I’m pregnant. This is not an isolated occurrence either. Once your pregnancy is public any comment about desiring an indulgent treat is sure to elicit reactions along similar lines. Why are we encouraging this, ever? If your sick friend or your overweight friend were to express the same desires would you be telling them to “live it up” as well?

The best response I receive to the tweet above came from reader Cécy: “Good to hear you’ve got the thumbs up. You could make cookies, eat one and give out the rest in celebration.” Maybe the difference between her and other commenters is that she is French? Whatever it is, I think Cécy has the right idea. Cécy is the kind of friend I’d like to have around post baby too, as encouragement like hers would likely mean I reach my post-pregnancy weight and health goals much faster, thus ensuring the timely return of the positive thoughts surrounding my body image. I want that so much more than I want a batch of no bake cookies!

Instead of encouraging indulgence or forbidding altogether, let’s encourage moderation in all things. I know of no diet that suggests nachos, doughnuts, burritos swimming in grease, fast food, chocolate cake, cookies, ice cream, or any other food commonly regarded as “junk” to be a good idea. When your pregnant friend suggests the lava chocolate ice cream hot fudge indulgence when you are out to eat, suggest she split it with you (wouldn’t you suggest that very thing if she weren’t pregnant?) instead of laughing and telling her to order all of the dessert she wants since she is on the Pregnancy Diet. When she talks about wanting chocolate and ice cream for breakfast lunch and dinner, commiserate by sharing your own cravings and praise her for doing such a wonderful job of growing a fetus inside her belly, don’t galvanize her efforts to indulge in something she and her sweet baby most certainly don’t need.

Let’s support each other, whether pregnant or not, in our efforts to be healthier, and thus happier. It’s possible that the indulgence now could cause your child problems farther down the road, something I am sure we all would like to avoid.

And if you can’t thing of a single thing to say that doesn’t sound like a judgment, raise your eyebrows, purse your lips together and say “mmmmmmm”. But let’s stop with the facilitating.

*Yes! I don’t have GD. I’ll write all about my midwife appointment (and all of the stuff I did to prepare for the test) this week.

This New Years was likely the most expensive I will ever experience. That Husband and I ate at the top of Reunion Tower at a restaurant called Five Sixty, which features a dining room that rotates 360 degrees for unbeatable views of downtown Dallas the the surrounding area. We splurged in part because I missed the chance to go to his company holiday party because he was sent out of town, but really I knew there was different reason why I wanted to go somewhere fancy for New Years.

I just want to feel pretty again. I want to look in the mirror and be happy with what I see.

I’m not sure that I say nice things in my head about myself when I look at this picture, but I needed the experience of taking a long hot shower and shaving my legs, slathering myself with matching lotion and perfume, smoothing on a touch of red lipstick and a bit more mascara than usual, curling my hair, slipping into an LBD (it’s real silk and feels so luxurious), and picking out some sparkly accessories. I still cringe when I see the photos as I’m still not used to the way I look right now, but when I stepped out of the car as we dropped off the car with the valet I felt fancy, and fanciness was what I needed that night.
I wrote last month about my struggle to accept my new figure. Despite all of the extremely kind comments urging me to see the beauty in my current state, I haven’t been able to find peace with who I am right now. I wouldn’t classify my current mental state as clinically depressed in any way, but it’s been far too long since I looked in the mirror and was happy/proud of what I saw.

A few days ago I realized, at least in part, why this has been so rough for me. I was fat before, but I was still who I chose to be, if that makes any sense. I was young and completely in control of my own life. Deciding to get pregnant and have a baby means giving up some of that control. In reality I don’t think I’m mourning the loss of my body, I’m mourning the loss of the girl I’ve come to identify myself as for the last decade. Ten years ago I was just coming into my prime. I french kissed a boy for the first time. I was about to learn how to drive. Over the next few years I would fill out and slim down in the right places and my parents would pull their hair out trying to find a way to help me realize how important it was to keep my virtue intact (I realize the importance now mom and dad, and I’ll be attempting the same thing with our own girls soon enough!). I started college and went from a high school with approximately 8 dateable guys to a pool of thousands of possibilities. My weight gain started, which caused my romantic possibilities to dry up, but my social life was so active I didn’t seem to notice. I lost weight and suddenly I was desirable again (although by that point I had already promised myself to someone so I didn’t spend any time gallivanting).

I’m married, happily, and completely committed to my husband, but now I feel as though I’ve not only lost my sassy single girl status, but also my blissful newlywed-ness as well. Come April we will have another human being to care for which means that in a few short months I become… a mother. I can’t be selfish like I am now. Most of the time I will have little to no control over things (temper tantrums anyone?). Days that already seem impossibly short will suddenly be filled with diapers and hungry mouths and mountains of laundry.

Jenna, the mother. Someone will call me mom, and in the beginning will depend on me for their very existence. In every sense of the word, I’m no longer a girl, I am a woman, and the transition has been tougher than I realized it would be. It’s going to be awhile before I feel comfortable in my own skin again, but since this motherhood thing is a lifetime commitment, I guess I have more than enough time to come to terms with it.

I’m fine with being the soccer mom who has a belly riddled with stretch marks, I just want to find a way to be the mom who doesn’t try to hide behind her kids every time a camera is pointed in her direction.

This post took me a ridiculously long time to write, considering the quality and the length. It’s whiny and probably will annoy many of you, but it’s real and I’ve found that writing honestly and openly to this community can be one of the most cathartic processes I can engage in. Who needs to pay for mental health counseling when one’s emotional issues can be aired on their blog?

Four years ago I got really fat. Stretch marks developed on my breasts (actually my chest has had stretch marks since high school), upper arms, lower back, love handles, around my belly button, throughout my thighs, and even behind my knees. My arms were jiggly, my thighs chafed together when I walked, my belly was soft and my face rounded out. I’d heard pregnant women complain about their bodies, and somehow I thought I would be largely immune to the frustration and low self-esteem because of my past experiences. I saw teeny tiny women develop breasts, round hips, and a sweet little basketball bump and I’d hear their complaints and write them off. “What are they complaining about?” I thought, “They knew their bodies would change when they got pregnant and they look beautiful and full. The pregnant body is marvelous.”

When we decided it was time for us to have a baby I thought I was prepared, and though I knew my body was going to change in ways slightly different than it had before, I thought the changes would be the kind I would revel in. My cup size would increase (I’ve heard husbands love that sort of thing), my hips would spread, and as the baby grew from a lentil to a cantaloupe to a watermelon I’d develop this sweet little round tummy right below my waist that I would want to show off at every available opportunity.

Unfortunately my experience has not been what I expected and I fear I’ve turned into a bit of a sad sad sally when those close to me inquire after my current emotional/physical well being. I feel pudgy and round and entirely-too-large for where I am in my pregnancy. I can see my face quickly filling out, the edges becoming soft and round, the one thing I didn’t want to see happening again, at least not until the very end. I don’t have a cute basketball bump as the area of my stomach above my belly button and below my breasts seems to be growing at the same rate as the area between my belly button and my pubic bone.I’ve been gaining weight at a rate of over two pounds per week, a much faster rate than any overweight-before-pregnancy woman should be achieving. I’m a typical lazy American that spends too much time at her computer, and each week that goes by I seem to find a new activity I might would engage in, if I could (DDR for example).

Overall I’m uncomfortable in my own skin, and I feel like I’m swelling up like a big balloon. Actually, after an indulgent Thanksgiving, I was blowing up like balloon. My legs and ankles felt so tight and puffy I worried they would literally burst open at any moment. Or maybe I was hoping they would burst open, then at least the pressure would be relieved.

Why am I feeling this way? I was so sure that my previous weight gain would dull the frustration of a changing body, but that has not been the case. It was dear sweet Katherine, a regular reader and commenter, who helped me really define why I was struggling so much with this comment. In particular these words stuck with me:

I think this whole weight-gain-during-pregnancy-talk represents two main concerns pregnant women have, a) the loss of their former figure (temporarily) and b) having to redefine & embrace a new figure every week and a new sense of self.

That’s it! I’m fine with losing my former figure, and I knew I would be, but it’s the pace of change that I can’t seem to adjust to. During college I gained 60 lbs but that happened over a period of about 3 years. In the past 5 months I’ve gained half that amount! Each week that passes presents new challenges, a body that feels like it looks completely different than it did before, and I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around it. I’ve not only had to redefine my understanding of what my pregnant body will look like when I’m “full term”, but also my first trimester body, my second trimester body, and all of those frustrating moments in between. I’ve had to learn to snuggle up to That Husband and leave my worries about what he may be thinking about this new version of his wife behind, because I can’t let those thoughts consume our time together. Sexy and beautiful can exist in more than one shape/form for me, but pregnancy really isn’t giving me the time I need to conceive that new definition of attractiveness. 40ish weeks is more than enough time to deal with the heartburn, nausea, fatigue, swelling, intrusive comments from strangers, manhandling of your belly by said strangers, and other common side-effects of pregnancy, but I do find myself wishing I could have a bit more time to cope emotionally with the changes in my appearance.

Of course I wouldn’t undo give this all up if the opportunity to go back and do things over again presented itself. The baby just kicked (just now, really!) and there is nothing I love more than feeling those squirms and wiggles through the day and the night. And thanks to Katherine ( and my friend Jill who coincidentally pointed out the same thing when I was getting my hair cut last week), I have a new mantra: I’ve lost it once before, I know I can do it again. For now I’ll just I’ll try to work on embracing this new version of me and navigating the transition from woman/wife into woman/wife/mother. It’ll be good practice for all of that transitioning I’ll have to undergo once baby is alive and kickin’ outside of my belly.

Over my years of calorie counting I’ve used several scales. This flat black scale from American Weigh is the best I have used so far. It has an 11.1 lb capacity and computes several units of measure, including grams, ounces, fluid ounces, and milliliters.

I love it because it’s thin, but I also love its lack of raised buttons. Raised buttons were the reason I had to throw out my last scale, because they clogged with food over time, I won’t have that problem with this one.

The black minimalist design also has me feeling better about leaving the scale out on the counter all the time, which is much easier for the calibration than moving it back and forth from the cupboard.

I found this one on Amazon for $19.99.

If you’re calorie counting, or thinking about calorie counting and you want to improve your accuracy a scale is key.

The Bugg has arrived! And oh my goodness, if you have been considering one, go here and order one immediately.

I deleted my previous post because it had malware (according to TH) so I’ll explain exactly what the BodyBugg is once again for those who weren’t listening before. The Bugg is a device which measures calorie output with a 90% accuracy rate. It measures how fast your body is moving, the amount of heat your body is giving off, the electrical conductivity of your skin, and skin temperature. If your the science-y type you can read about it in detail here.

It’s thin, light, black and incredibly comfortable. I can wear it for several days at a time without recharging it. When I do plug it in I log on to BodyBugg.com (a service which costs about $14/month) and click the mouse a few times to get a chart showing me how many calories I’ve burned, the rate per hour, and the number of steps I’ve taken. I have the option of plugging in what I’ve eaten but I won’t be using it because I’m not ready to give up Fitday yet.

Though I was resistant to the idea of buying it That Husband convinced me to get the digital display in hopes that I wouldn’t have to renew my paid subscription to the website and plug in my stats to Fitday instead. As of right now, I think it should work.

The digital display is a-may-ZING. It tells me in real-time how many calories I’ve burned so far that day, how many burned yesterday, and what my target is.

I took these pictures at 5:43 PM and I was only at 1335 for the day so far…

But my target is 2150. I admit I didn’t make my goal for the day, but knowing how far behind I was spurred me to action and I got a lot closer.

The day before I had a photo shoot and I not only met my goal, I burned 141 calories more than my goal. Photography is so good for my health.

The digital display also tells me how many steps I’ve taken and does a really great job of upgrading in real-time.

That day I burned 141 extra calories I didn’t even reach the 10,000 step goal. Wearing this for only a few days made me realize I don’t need to be working out for hours every day to burn enough calories to lose weight, I really just need to move around a little bit more.

The goal number of steps. I really will get there someday.

With the BodyBugg on my arm and my calories being counted in Fitday I feel really motivated to stay focused and dedicated. Have I lost a pound? Nope,  but as long as I keep my deficit to an average of 600 calories/day the pounds will come off eventually.

Whenever I start to worry about whetherwearing this big black band on my arm ruins my outfit I remind myself how tough I look with it on.

I look tough, right?