On Sunday I braved the scale for the first time in a while and made a horrifying discovery. Remember when I was bitching about how fat and poochy and sort of doughy I am? And I said I thought I needed to lose five or eight or maybe even ten pounds? Well, I threw that ten pounds in there just to be outrageous, because come one, I may be slightly more rotund around the middle these days and may also be muffintopping it all over town because I refuse to buy fat pants, but surely, I thought, there was no way I needed to lose ten pounds. Maybe eight, sure, but not ten.
I am eleven pounds over my pre-pregnancy weight. Eleven. E. Lev. En. Meaning I have also gained eleven pounds since January. Fuck me. I mean, not that you would want to since I am so lumpy these days. Well ok, maybe if you turned the lights off you wouldn't notice so much. Oh nevermind, that wasn't the point anyway. Not that I have a point, other than ELEVEN. I've basically been doing sit-ups non-stop since Sunday afternoon, frequently with the added benefit of Mia sitting on my stomach because she thinks this is a really fun game. Also because it is super comfortable being all soft and gooey, sort of like a nice, overstuffed recliner. Fuck me.
So ok, apparently my point is twofold. One, ELEVEN. Two, fuck me.
In unrelated news, this morning I decided that my precious, beautiful, perfect in all ways offspring could not possibly live another day in a house with dirty curtains, so I took them all down and washed them. This freaked the kid right the hell out. Turns out, toddlers are not so much for change. I then realized, far too late to save myself, that washing all the curtains meant ironing all the curtains, which I have not yet done, and which I must go do now instead of curling up in my nice soft bed with my book because without curtains there is nothing to shield my innocent and unsuspecting neighbors from the horrifying sight of my pot belly.
My point is now threefold. One, ELEVEN. Two, fuck me. Three, next time I decide to break out the domestic goddess act, somebody smack me. Just don't smack me on the belly because the jiggle will make me cry.