How I went from a Skinny Bitch to a Reluctant Housewife cont.
The pregnancy diet, a guaranteed weight loss plan.
What first tipped me off about my pregnancy was not the early symptoms of extreme tiredness or the missed period but rather how my relationship with food changed. The two times I remember distinctly that something wasn’t right was one morning when Patrick bought me a breakfast burrito at work from the café downstairs. I was busy stuck writing something at my computer and doing my usual mindless eating when suddenly I felt incredibly (and almost grossly) full. I looked down at my burrito, a nice 6-incher I have been known to down easily in under three minutes, and there was more than half of it left. And I didn’t want a bite more. I proceeded to throw the rest of it anyway, which may not seem like a big deal but for someone who has a reputation of boxing up other people’s leftovers at the dinner table (hey, they called me a starving college student for good reason!), throwing away any food was sacrilegious.
I would joke, "The secret to losing a lot of weight really quickly? Just get pregnant. It's like instant gastric bypass surgery."The second time was a few days later when I was having dinner at one of my favorite go-to restaurants, Granville, with a couple of family friends. While everyone was intently studying the menu for scrumptious eats, I was at a loss for what I felt like having that night. Finally, I settled on sharing a bacon cheeseburger with someone (she was on a diet but wanted just one greasy but oh-so-good taste) because nothing else sounded appealing. By the time my plate came, I was barely able to finish my half (and mind you, their burgers aren’t all that big) before reaching intense fullness. As out-of-touch as I can be with my body sometimes, I just KNEW something was wrong so after much prodding from Carly, I caved in and purchased my first-ever pregnancy test (obviously it came out positive, but more on that in the future).
At Disneyland when I was 6 months pregnant.
As soon as I found out I was pregnant, I lost my taste for all sweets and coffee (yes, my former elixir of health!!) and started gravitating toward salty and calorically dense foods. I “craved” (I put crave in quotes because I never really became one of those rabid pregnant women who MUST get their mayo and PB sandwiches at 2 in the morning and if you were ever one of those women, please don’t take offense in this) frozen and delivery pizza, chicken nuggets, macaroni and cheese, KFC...basically food not good for the body but good for the soul. While I cared a lot about staying healthy during my pregnancy and eating well for my baby, one unexpected side effect of growing said baby was how full I felt the whole time. I wanted to take advantage of my current situation and tried to eat with reckless abandon but I could never put that much food away in one sitting. I would have a few bites during mealtime and then become hungry again just a short hour later. I went from someone who could easily skip a meal or two to someone who was bound to food, someone whose schedule revolved around the next chance I could get my hands on something to eat. So, I tried to self-resolve the issue by eating really fatty foods so that the small portions that I could eat at one time would be able to hold me over until my next meal. My stomach continued to shrink as my baby got bigger and I would often joke to friends, "The secret to losing a lot of weight really quickly? Just get pregnant. It's like instant gastric bypass surgery."
Five months into the pregnancy, I moved in with Patrick and we relished in the fact that our food preferences were so compatible (like college students: greasy, fast, and processed). Many a nights were spent scouring takeout menus for our next junk food experience or reviewing hole-in-the-wall diners on Yelp.com for possible joints we could swing by for breakfast the next day. It was a glorious time in my life when I was able to enjoy all the yummy and gooey comfort foods that dreams are made of without having to spend any time in the kitchen (unless 10 minutes hovering over your Kraft Dinner on the stove top counts for something). It was the glorious time when I need not (heck, could not) suck in my stomach after a plate of finger-lickin' ribs, when I was joyfully and unabashedly praised for every pound that I gained. In the end, I tipped the scales at a total of 19 pounds heavier (again, remember that I started out small) but my epicurean lifestyle came all too quickly to a halt when I delivered King after one last gloriously greasy Red Robin meal.
And not one week after King arrived did I hear the most dreaded words come out of Patrick’s mouth: “So what are you making for dinner tonight, Wifey?”
Stay tuned for my transformation (begrudgingly) into the Reluctant Housewife after King was born.