Eat for Two

I feel as though I should be over this by now (haaaa, “over”), but nope, I still can’t get over the fact that I’m having two girls. Two girls! Two daughters! No matter what I’d be having, two children are bound to be packed with insanity, but there’s something about two daughters that’s both exhilarating and terrifying. Maybe it’s the teenage years (it so is) or the idea of having multiple females going through PMS at the same time. The expenses! The mean girls! (Please, don’t let my girls be mean girls. PLEASE.) The middle school years!

GIRLS. I am in so far over my head here. But I’m also so excited. GIRLS.

I have said before that I always thought I’d have boys, and I suppose that’s true only in the sense that it’s all I really saw modeled. My sister had two boys. My brother had two boys. Adam’s brother had two boys. Of course it would stand to reason that *I* would have two boys, because EVERYONE does.

The truth, though, is that deep down, I knew this was how it would be. If you’d asked me years ago, I would tell you that of course, I’m having daughters. I was a horror show of a teenage girl. I am not that girly (at all). There is nothing about me that indicates that I should be a good mother to little girls, but man, here I am. There I’ll be. In crazytown. But oh, I am so happy.

The upside is that I have zero plans to scrimp on my daughters’ clothing budgets. Well, Sam’s, anyway, because after all, it needs to LAST. RIGHT?

At any rate, I’ll tell you, I’m really done with being pregnant, and I feel like such a douche saying that because I wanted it — want it — so badly, but it turns out, even when you want something, it can still suck AND be terrifying and MANY OTHER NEGATIVE THINGS. I am thrilled every day, of course, but I am less than thrilled that I haven’t felt normally in MONTHS. I don’t remember what it’s like not to nurse low-grade nausea on a constant basis. Or to sneeze without peeing. I’m legitimately not sure if I peed every time I sneezed before I got pregnant. Was it always like this? I can’t even remember. I know my bladder lost some functionality post-birth, but was sneeze-peeing on the list of things that went south? Or am I doomed to a life of panty-liners? I DO NOT EVEN KNOW, YOU GUYS.

(I JUST SAID PANTY. HOLD ME.)

I was AlSO thinking, a la the sinus infection diet theory, that losing weight will be a CINCH after I have this baby, because my God, food isn’t even that appealing, RIGHT? What was I thinking? Why do people overeat? You can’t even eat that much in one sitting, and it doesn’t even TASTE good when you do! I have these absurd, ill-conceived fantasies of wearing teeny tiny jeans and T-shirts in extra small and nibbling daintily on healthy salads and roasted veggies within WEEKS of childbirth. And my hair will be magically grown-out and I will resemble Heidi Klum on her best day! Because, as it turns out, FOOD IS YUCKY, HOW DID I NOT NOTICE THIS BEFORE?

Riiiiight. Obviously I have blocked out the creepily delicious meal of hospital-prepared chicken marsala I devoured the night Sam was born. Y’all, I don’t even LIKE chicken marsala. And then, when I finished that, there was pizza Adam got me from the cafeteria. And the PANCAKES the next day. I felt like Jane Fonda in that pot scene in 9 to 5 as she sucks the pimiento out of a jar of green olives. “This is so wonderful. Everything tastes so WONDERFUL.”

You know why dieting is hard when I’m not pregnant? FOOD TASTES GOOD. Eating food is not a JOB, it is something to ENJOY. So perhaps I should lay off the smuggy pants attitude of “HOW HARD CAN DIETING BE?” as I watch people struggle with New Year’s resolutions to drop a few pounds. Because most people don’t have to stare down a bowl of Kashi GoLean, wondering whether eating it will make them feel better or worse? BETTER OR WORSE? No, they ENJOY that bowl of Kashi (or you know, whatever) and then think about having SECONDS. LIKE NORMAL PEOPLE.

The saddest part of this whole thing is that weight loss is not the desired option, and even when I don’t want to eat, I HAVE to force myself to eat that damned bowl of Kashi GoLean. It’s like some sort of twisted version of hell! You can eat all you want, but it will taste terrible! OR! You have to eat a restricted diet and EVERYTHING WILL BE FABULOUS. You hear that, Satan? This is how you torture people. I assume you’ve got this in your arsenal already.

Wow, I am sorry for whining. What I am going to do now is snuggle my ass up to a body pillow and call this whole thing a DAY. But not before eating that bowl of cereal, natch.

Happy Tuesday!

*10,000 Maniacs

55 comments January 23rd, 2012