Yes, I've Popped Ok!

So, yes, my belly has popped. There is no shadow of a doubt I am pregnant. Less than five pictures have been taken of me pregnant, so I cannot show how big I am because the other parts of my body that are also that big needn't be documented. I always think I'm big and fat, but lately people haven't shied away from telling me. The depression of it all has only made me eat more. I'm obsessed with sweets. Cookies, candy, ice cream, you name it. It also seems the house has been stocked with these things even though I have not bought them. I feel slightly out of control, and I know losing this weight will be an even bigger challenge. I dream of wearing cute clothes that I see in magazines and online but I truly don't think I will ever be thin again. I last weighed in at "thin" when I was 120 pounds when we got married. That was almost eight years ago. Where has the time, I mean, weight gone? To my ass? Yes. To my thighs? Oh yes? Even to my calves? It is possible, folks, and the answer is yes.

Last week a co-worker told me NOT to visit Newport Beach (while I was in CA). I didn't understand why he said this, so I inquired. He looked at me as if I should have known, but he went on to tell me that the women are so skinny there, and only have little bumps. So, obviously I would feel very self-conscious there because I am so gross and huge. He didn't say the second part, but he was obviously telling me that I would feel pretty bad about myself in the company of these women. This was after he had told me two months ago that he could tell I was having a girl because I showed everything from behind. I wish I could make this stuff up, but it is all true.
I gained eight pounds in six weeks between my past two appointments at the doctor. This is above average. The average is one to two pounds. I jokingly told the nurse that maybe I should cut down on the ice cream sandwiches, and with a concerned glare, she concurred. Aces.

People can't believe I still have three months to go at my size. Everyone's latest reactions have been, "Wow, you're really showing now!"

Anyone who knows me, knows how much I hate my body, always have. Now, I'm just a complete blob with no shape, lumps, and massive boobs that sweat in the newly elongated 5" cleavage. It's just swell. One would think as much as I hate the way I look, I would do something about it. Instead, I do little to no exercise, complain all the time (like now), and eat like I'm a candidate for the Biggest Loser binging for the last time before the casting call.

I think it's time for the hypnotist. I do believe I'm slightly out of control. Wondering if he'll help with my spending issues, patience levels, parenting skills, work success, and sense of direction while driving while I'm there.