Friday night Dave and I went grocery shopping (seriously, we're livin the life) and I had to practically beg him to let me buy some ice cream. (Last time he didn't let me buy it and said "no ice cream for you!" so this time he was really nice about it.) I know he means well but sometimes it's hard for me not to take it personally
All day Friday I ate like crazy and stepped on the scale Saturday morning to see that the numbers went up. His reaction: "You gained a POUND over night?? Dude, that's a lot." (Insert sad face.)
I blame it on myself. I gave him full license at the beginning of this pregnancy to be a nazi with me since I obviously don't have any self control (I caved in and ate half a hot dog on Saturday. Eek!). Some Well girls have unofficially started a "Let Irene Eat" campaign as they feel that it's wrong for a husband to restrict a pregnant wife's diet. His response was pretty straightforward: I only need an extra 200-300 calories a day. Sigh. There's no arguing with him. (Little does he know I sneak in extra snacks during work. Booyah!)
Personally, I think he's scared that he'll gain weight with me. =P There are some guys out there who are more than happy to eat ramen with their preggers three times a day. Oh, but not Dave. He must maintain his physique. And therefore I must maintain mine. To some degree.
But my body is definitely changing. I'm starting to look less like a 13-year-old junior highschooler and gaining some womanly curves (these hips don't lie). But I don't want curves... I just want my boyish body back...
Although, I don't think Dave minds the curves all that much. Ha!