Fat Days A.K.A. My New Reality

I’m going to take a moment to toot my own horn here: I made it past 40, and I’m STILL hot. Calm down, it’s not overconfidence or conceit — and my ego, while healthy, is not inflated. It takes blood, sweat, and tears not to let yourself go. I have worked my ASS OFF to keep it together, and that’s no easy fete.  Now that I’m pregnant – my reality has wittled itself down – life revolves around the only TWO THINGS that sincerely matter: 1) In nine months time, a little human (the size of a small watermelon) will come out of my vagina  2) I’M GOING TO GET FAT. WHY is the latter scarier of the two?! I will remind myself to breathe (as I schedule endless Pilates sessions, a new membership at Tracey Anderson Studio, and diet exsiting only of Kale to commence 240 days from now). I just measured my waist, which just went from 24.5 to 25……I’M F*CKED.




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