Fear of fat

At the moment, my singular fear is getting fat.

I know, this is a selfish, vain concern. And you don't need to tell me that there are a million and one other things that I should be more worried about. Yet, here I am, obessing about the weight I'm going to gain and the few extra pounds that are already calling my body home.

Supposedly, I'm to gain 25-35 pounds! But what really terrifies me is the 10, 20, 30 or more extra pounds I'll pack on! To be honest, I don't know where this fear of fat comes from. I've always been a rather "healthy" gal and I've never concerned myself too much with my weight - as long as I was eating the right foods, exercising and fitting into my clothes it didn't matter what the scale said.

Not so anymore. The weight scale has become my most used appliance in my household and I pay it homage at least once a day.

The other night while speaking to my mother, I shared with her my fear of fat. She got very serious and provided the following sage advice: "Eat. Eat everything and anything. Don't think about it; just eat it. It's all good. Now's the time! Later, you can diet and lose it."

Of course, coming from my mother - who in her last pregnancy nearly doubled her weight (she gained more than 80 lbs), and like those models or movie stars you'd like to pierce with a bow and arrow, reverted back to her thin figure within 3 months - gaining and loosing an incredible amount of weight seems possible. But, with my metabolism and sheer love of food, I'll likely become yet another woman who reminisces about their youth when they were thin and beautiful!

As much as I want to listen to my mother and just enjoy as many plates of pasta as my stomach can hold without imploding, I just can't do it. I wish I could, but I just can't!

Men are from mars...

What would be the first thing you'd do if you found out you and your significant other were pregnant? Maybe you'd make a doctor's appointment or perhaps you'd read up on what you should do (or stop doing) to stay healthy.

Well, for Mr. Oh, his instant reaction was to begin his search for (cue game show voice) a brand new car!! But not just any car, no he's looking at the massive, gas-guzzling, very environmentally unfriendly SUVs!

Within a week of learning the news, he visited several dealerships to test drive his favourites. And, lately, his nights are dedicated to trolling websites to research which car would be the best!

I just can't wrap my head around it. How could he think that an itty, bitty thing that will be (hopefully) small enough to squeeze out of my va-j-j would need a luxury, 6-seater with leather interior, moon roof, TVs and god knows what else???

Supposedly, it'll be more comfortable for the little one. Yes, like it would know the difference between an SUV or a K-car!

A flutter of excitment - finally!

I met with my OB on Friday, and this afternoon she confirmed that, yep, a seed was planted and a bud was growing. I'll be 8 weeks tomorrow.

The results didn't surprise me, but my reaction did! I finally felt a flutter of excitment as she recited the blood test results over the phone. I shared this with her and it finally made my lady doc feel a little better as I didn't leave a very good first impression last week.

When I got to the doc's office last week, I was, without a doubt, nervous and anxious. But, if you know me, I'm a pretty down-to-business kinda gal. When dealing with emotional issues, I can literally put emotions on the back burner and pretend they don't exist.

Anyhow, my doc was so enthusiastic when I shared my suspicions with her. Her eyes widened with excitement and it looked like she was going to get up off her stool to give me a hug. I'm sure she noticed the scared deer-in-the-headlights look in my eye, and so decided to stay put.

When she calmed down some, she looked at me skeptically and said, "Was this planned?" I replied in the affirmative. This only puzzled her further and said "This is your first?" Again, yes. This only excited her more, "This is cool, isn't it??" To which I said, "I'm not sure about that yet."

Trying to rally me, she then asked, "So what questions can I answer for you." My response: "Your the doc, what should you tell me?" At this point she gave up on me and recited her laundry list of dos and don'ts.

Before leaving she congratulated me and then shared that my reaction was a little unusual, especially since I planned this pregnancy. I chuckled at the comment and simply replied that I was just as surprised.

It was only a flutter today, but a flutter is something!

Hiding game

I have yet to go public with my news. There are several reasons for this. First off, I have yet to visit my doctor for full, scientific evaluation and confirmation (it takes weeks, sometimes months to get an OBGYN appointment in this city). Second, and more significantly, I'm still coming to terms with my new state and taking the time to sharpen my reactionary skills so I won't appear to be such an ungrateful curmudgeon (see Congratulations?).

Since I haven't shared the news with anyone beyond Mr. Oh, the receptionist at my OBGYN and my yoga instructor, I've been playing the hiding game from friends and family, avoiding any interaction. The problem is I'm a horrible liar - I wear my emotions on my sleeve and if I'm dealing with something I need to air it out, otherwise it'll fester and ferment, and make me a rather unpleasant person to deal with.

Last weekend, two days after peeing on those sticks, we had a housewarming party where just about all the people we knew joined us in our home. It was lovely; but I hardly got to enjoy myself. I was on pins and needles all night, floating quickly around the room, staying with no one person or group too long for them to notice that I wasn't toting my perpetually full glass of wine or that I didn't even taste the tuna tartar I made (which I heard was pretty great). I particularly stayed away from the gals - especially the mammas - as I was afraid they'd sense something was afoot.

So, today, without thinking I agreed to join a friend at an event later this week - I always seem to leap before thinking. And, now I sit here worried, how do I avoid joining her for the celebratory drink (when that's one of the things we do so well together) without spilling the beans?

I guess, I'll have to be creative!

Why is fat so wrong?

How sensitive have men gotten?

We were out for a stroll last night and I stopped in front of a shop window to ogle the spring fashion. I was about to step in, when I decided that it would be a pointless venture that would tease me and leave me disappointed.

Trying to find that silver lining, I reported to Mr. Oh that there were a lot of flowing dresses in the shop windows this season, which will give me the room I'll need in the coming months. To which he said, "I guess they'll be good when you get fat!"

Just as he stressed this last word, another guy walked by us, his face striken, he gave a fast double take and continued walking quickly. I guess he figured I'd blow up at such a horrid thing to say!

Instead, I bowled over with laughter and tried to scold Mr. Oh for being so insensitive! At which point, we got one last, worried look back at us. Obviously, someone has trained (or scared) him well that saying the word, "fat" to a woman is a big no-no!

Hunger like no other

Luckily, I've never had to experience the true desperation of hunger. That state of starvation where you're so hungry that your animal instincts will have you do things you wouldn't imagine. Well, that is, up until now.

For those who know me, you may be rolling your eyes and likely group me in with the "boys who cried wolf" gang. Yes, I've claimed the dramatic "I'm starving" mantra numerous times in the past. For me, going without food for 2 to 3 hours was enough to get my stomach talking and me grumbling for my next meal.

However, the hunger pangs - yes, pangs, people - I've experienced in the past week or so, I now realize how I've over-dramatized my hunger in the past. Now, there have been days where I've been so hungry and so desperate for food I didn't trust what I'd say or do to get food into my system.

I've become really good at bringing very healthful snacks with me to work that will provide me the nutrients I need and stave me from visiting the vending machines. Many times, I bring too much food that I end up saving it for the next day.

This wasn't the case the other day - my first hunger pang. I was truly ravishing. No matter what I ate (and it was a lot), I couldn't seem to ease the sensation of hunger. Finally, when I had run out of healthy snacks this feeling of true desperation bubbled up. I began to panic. So, I grabbed my things and literally ran all the way home and when I got there (in record time), I ran to the fridge and jammed a piece of whole wheat flax bread down my throat without a second thought.

I woke this morning with the same feeling - famished, a little light headed and very antsy. Unfortunately, I didn't get a chance to do a grocery shop yesterday (I really need to get this in check!), and so there is very little food in my fridge. So, in need of food, I awaited until Mr. Oh rose out of bed - almost an hour after I - and asked him to take a trip to the grocery store to pick up a few things.

His response: "Come on. You always say you're hungry. I'm sure you can wait." In part he's right - I do always say that. But, there's no way I can wait. Not this time.

What's up with all the limitations?

What's with all the rules? I knew there were a few things that you shouldn't do - like smoke, drink strong alcohol, take drugs. But, I have to say the list of things you "can't" has left me absolutely unimpressed.

So the no drug thing doesn't simply mean avoid illegals like cocaine and heroine, but supposedly simple conveniences like Advil and allergy pills are out of the question. Let me tell you how I'm looking forward to the pollen season this year!

Then, there's the alcohol thing. I get I shouldn't crack open the new Patron silver tequila I was given as a gift (although I really want to), but really, you're telling me I can't have wine? It's made from grapes and is full of antioxidants. Heart patients are encouraged to drink it, yet healthy pregnant women can't?

Then there's the list of "no-no" foods. Sushi (give me the torture chamber instead), unripened cheese like brie (crucify me), deli meats (just kill me), undercooked fish like tuna or oysters (how cruel), and the list goes on and on and on.

Fine, there are some logical, medical reasons for some of these - like the mercury in tuna is dangerous and will penetrate the placenta and cause brain damage. But, others just seem cruel and truly defy common sense. For example, do pregnant women in Japan not eat sushi for 9 months? With more than 127 million people living in Japan, I can't imagine thousands go without eating sushi every year! Do the French really stay away from their cheeses? Do the Italians really stay away from their wine and cured salumi? I just don't buy it.

Some have even tried to scare me off from exercising. Really? Isn't now the time when I should be my most fit? I ran a half marathon last year and I trained every day for more than four months. And, now, when my body is going to expand and change and do things I still have yet to process, I'm going to sit back and take it easy? The response I got was that I could pick it up in the second trimester. So, let me understand, after spending 3 months on the sofa letting myself get uncomfortably fat and unfit, I should then shock my lazy heart and other unfit organs by starting to exercise. And this would be better than continuing with a healthy exercise regime now? Again, I just don't buy it!

For now, I'm watching what I'm drinking, eating and doing. I'm still enjoying my wine, but in moderation and I'm still running and doing yoga - although I'm listening more closely to my body and stopped pushing myself. I do plan on becoming more educated on these things, so I can determine for myself which limitations are based on research and fact, and which are based on mere conservative North American Puritanical fears and ignorance.

Congratulations?

So, I received my third, genuinely enthusiastic congratulations the other day. And, for days I've been wondering why the celebratory chorus, "congratulations", and the kindness it was wrapped up in turned my stomach so.

Why am I not overjoyed, enthusiastic, excited by this event? Aren't I supposed to be all these things and more? And, why am I experiencing an almost visceral reaction to the simple celebratory word? I have yet to experience morning sickness (which is a deceiving term as it can happen any time of day - and sometimes all day!), but "congratulations" almost brought on a serious bout of it!

Although I always imagined kids in my future, I'm just not the type that has yearned to be a mommy. I know, this sounds very contradictory, but a truth nonetheless.

My only answer for you - I ran out of excuses.

Last fall, I had the near traumatic realization that I was officially in my "early 30s" and as Mr. Oh has kindly reminded me, I was now closer to 40 than I was to 20 (what a prince, non?). I then took a good look at my life - was I where I wanted to be at this age? I had no regrets and was very happy with my life. Professionally, I was do well and had just achieved the promotion I had been working towards for 4 years. I was also on the last leg of my master's degree program.

Personally, I was as happy as a fat kid eating cake: I had an awesome husband who I've known and loved for 15 years, was financial stable, living in a city I loved, and - key to living in the New York area - we lived in a spacious two bedroom apartment.

This trip down and out of the rabbit hole of my life took mere minutes and when I emerged, I realized I had no excuses left to bar us from having a family. And any excuse I came up with - like enjoying a cool, refreshing margarita on the rocks with salt on a hot summer day - were too pithy and too short-term to consider seriously.

Looking at the facts of my life - it appeared I was ready and if I didn't move forward I'd simply be bidding time and postponing the inevitable. What I didn't do at the time was consider how I felt about being pregnant and the impact it would have on my life today, for the next 9 months and the rest of my life!

Don't mistaken it, I'm not unhappy with my new situation, but I do need some time to process it all. And as I do so, I'll continue to puke in my mouth as others embrace and congratulate me!

The Nose Knows

I've always had a good nose and could sniff out just about any scent. But the other day, my smelling prowress had escalated to new heights - I actually tracked down the assualting odor of rotting banana to a peel placed in a trash bin three workstations away!

It was then that I realized I needed to make my way to the pharamcy. As I walked home from work, I gave myself a pep talk to muster up the courage to make the purchase that would explain my sniffing powers.

After several litres of water and four trips to the toilets, my suspicions were confirmed - I was pregnant. Or, at least 3 of the 4 pee sticks said so. It was then that I felt the walls crashing in on me. Could it be?

For the rest of the evening, I sat stunned, wringing my fingers and awaiting the daddy-to-be's return so I could share the news.

Before the door closed behind him, I blurted out the news, which left the two of us stunned into silence for the rest of the evening.