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Packing on the pounds

Written by: Suzanna June 30 2011 Until a couple of weeks ago, worries about gaining weight were the last thing on my mind. In fact, after months of vomiting several times a day, I was more concerned about not gaining enough weight to keep Baby Palmer healthy and whether or not my esophagus would make...

Written by: Suzanna

Until a couple of weeks ago, worries about gaining weight were the last thing on my mind. In fact, after months of vomiting several times a day, I was more concerned about not gaining enough weight to keep Baby Palmer healthy and whether or not my esophagus would make it to month nine (and, if it did, if it would ever allow me to eat Mexican food again). Into the sixth month of my pregnancy, I had gained only four pounds.

Oh, the difference a month makes.

I am now throwing up only a couple of times a week. (And, there was much rejoicing!) As a result, I have gained more than twice as much weight in the past four weeks as I had in the previous months—ten pounds to be exact. For my vanity’s sake, I won’t reveal the grand total that brings me to. Let’s just say that in some fighting circles, I would nearly classify as a “heavyweight.” Who knows, once these nine months are over, I may have a future in professional boxing.

It’s true that weight gain is inevitable during pregnancy—and the only time in a woman’s life she gets the green light to pack on a few extra pounds—but, unfortunately, I’m not sure I can blame Baby Palmer for my ballooning figure. My last weigh-in came on the heels of a three-week vacation that included spending time with food and family, in that order. Two of the weeks were with my Southern Nana who could turn a piece of cardboard into a calorie-laden, culinary masterpiece.

So, while I would like to tell myself—and you—that the ten pounds were my body’s natural response to no longer hurling ten times a day, I have a feeling they were more likely in response to coconut cake, fried catfish, and hushpuppies. I’m tellin’ ya: Paula Deen’s got nothin’ on my grandma.

Regardless of where the pounds came from, they’re here to stay for a few months, and they’re welcome to do so, as long as they don’t each bring a friend to my next weigh-in. I don’t mind taking one for the Baby Palmer team, but I’m not about to take one for the whole league—at least not all by next month. In the world of pregnancy weight gain, I am told that slow and steady wins the race.

I better take my running shoes off.

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