So I had a "weigh in" today. (Read, doctor's appointment.) And I haven't exactly been dieting leading up to this big day. After I step on the scale and they take my blood pressure, I'm immediately escorted back to an exam room.
"This is promising." I think to myself, I haven't even had time to pick up a magazine in the waiting room.
Tick tock tick tock...
I end up sitting on that damn butcher paper for almost an hour with only a COSMOPOLITAN magazine to satiate my reading appetite. When the doctor finally knocks, I'm ass deep in this article titled, "How to please your man in public".
I felt like telling her I wasn't ready for HER yet.
"Whisper in his ear with your lips barely touching him, and ask him if he picked up the dry cleaning..."
Next weigh in I think I'm gonna bring in a tuna sandwich and a pickle and just wrap up my leftovers in that paper. The nerve...
Anywho, she looked at my recent weight gain, and asked if I had a sweet tooth.
"No, not really." (Read, cream puffs have never tasted so good.)
I guess it's time to make an appointment with my bariatric therapist. (Read, psychotherapist.)
And Hulk, if you're reading this, these are MY issues with ME. They have nothing to do with you. I would give my left tit if it meant that you would come out healthy.
(Of course then we'd have to supplement breast milk with formula for your first few months.)
This has been an amazing journey that I've been on for more than 6 months. (Read, will the meal that's been sitting in the back of my throat ever move south?)
Now you're kicking and flip-flopping in my belly. And I know you love the sound of bagpipes as much as I do. Did you know that was BFF's hand on my belly the other night when you were causing such a ruckus?
Seriously, admit it, I do kind of sound like Kelly Clarkson when I'm singing in the car, don't I?
Are you going to be OK with spicy breast milk? We have soooo much to talk about...
1 comment:
kenny. you're .. you're .. .you are!?!!!!!!
soooooooooper!!1!!!
nice hustle!
Post a Comment