I’m thirty + weeks and counting down. Mostly I’m concentrating on making these babies grow. Grow babies grow! I cannot tell you how awful it is when people constantly tell me how small I look (in the belly). They ask, “how far along are you?” and before I even say I’m having twins (which I’ve pretty much stopped doing) I tell them the weeks and they look at me like they’re horrified. But really, I think soon the smaller babe will just start pulling nutrients out of my ass. A girl can dream right? I am going to admit something to you guys (as if you couldn’t tell how neurotic I am anyway). You know how I post about being scared of getting weighed at the doctor? Obviously this weight issue goes way back to junior high school when I decided I was fat despite the fact that I was perfectly normal with a curvy Jewish rear end that I deemed unacceptable. Unhealthy food and eating disorder issues ensued. I don’t need to tell any of my female readers that those issues had way more to do with many other issues having nothing to do with weight and everything to do with lack of control over the rest of my life. Those issues have been under control since I was in my early twenties. But, having someone actively monitoring my weight really brings the old obsession right up to the forefront. Don’t get me wrong, I eat a ton, and I’m taking care of these girls like a crazy protective mama already – it just comes out in my worry about getting weighed. Full disclosure: I don’t own a scale so I weighed myself at Bed, Bath and Beyond so that I wouldn’t be surprised at my appointment this morning. Yes, that’s completely over the top redonkulous and not my proudest moment. I know some of you who don’t have this issue will read this and find it self indulgant and strange but it feels real to me. Plus, I’m pretty hormonal so…cut me some slack.
I’m feeling a lot better about the disparate weight of the babies and I’m downing a Carnation Instant Breakfast drink every morning. They seems to like that. Especially the chocolate flavor.