I'm so not used to this belly thing.
Even when I was quite a bit heavier, I always put on weight in my hips and thighs and boo-tay. I have pretty much always had a nice flat stomach--the non-flat was my "baby got back." So now that I'm getting this belly thing I don't know how to handle it.
For instance, several times after lunch I've gotten up and realized a few minutes later that I have crumbs all over my stomach. I'm walking around like a human crumb machine. Nice.
Today I was wearing a black shirt at work, and turned around to add to something written on the board. I hit my belly against the blackboard and part of the words "Ayatollah Khomeini" appeared on my shirt.
Sweet. I'm now a walking cheat sheet.
I go back to the doc's on Thursday and decided I'm done looking at the number on my weigh-in. After having a borderline neurotic breakdown in the office the last time (in which Matt alternated between trying not to laugh at me and at the same time, calm me down), the doctor told me SHE'S the one who needs to worry about my weight--not me. She said everything's fine, and "unless I'm eating a pint of Haagen-Daaz (sp?) every night," I don't need to worry. I'm still running, swimming, walking with friends, riding on the trainer, and yoga-ing 5 times per week. So I'm just going to not look. And that's all there is to it.
In this journal book thing I have it says, "Chart your weight and waist size here!" Uh...no thanks. Neurotic weight head cases like myself don't need to be doing that kinda stuff. Since my doc and those of you who have come before me swear it's mostly water weight (and boobs--holy smokes, don't even get me started), what's the point? So I'm officially getting that monkey off my back. Several people who I hadn't seen in a while this week and BBQ'd with this weekend told me they couldn't believe I was that far along and that I looked great, so I'm going to stick with that. And three freshman girls decided I'm having a boy, because, as one proclaimed, (and I quote) "My mom says with girls you gain weight all over but we decided your butt is still small."
I replied with THAT JUST GOT YOU AN A+ FOR THE YEAR.
Running while pregnant is so bizarre. Sunday I ran and felt FANTABULOUS. I only had to walk ONE MINUTE (hey, that's good at this point) and felt like I could keep going. Then, Monday, the same run was POOPY. I had to alternate running 5 minutes, walking 3 for the first mile and a half or so, but then felt great and ended up going farther than I had the day before. Huh?
Every time I'm done with a run, Baby Z kicks like crazy. I think it wants me to keep going. As I was stretching after my "long" run on Monday of almost 4 miles (whooooaaa Nellie!) I thought I faintly heard someone say, "And you call yourself an Ironman?" To which I replied, "You're grounded."
Three more days of classes. Man, this year flew. I can't believe I've been doing this thing for 8 years now. I was such a baby when I started. Sheesh.
Happy training to all, and to all a good night!