It’s been a good week for my Wounded Knee. The stitches came out last Wednesday, and within a day or two I was back to walking more or less normally. The injury is still not a pretty sight: the seams of the scar are the color of a bruise, the sewn-together parts are ghastly pink, and the as-yet-unhealed patches are still Technicolor-nasty. But all this shall pass. Eventually it’ll just be a knee, and some day I may once again be able to walk over a DC sidewalk drainage grate without wincing.

Back at GW for my 28-week prenatal appointment, I learned something rather upsetting. This upsetting information was revealed when I stood on the doctor’s scale. (Fortunately I managed not to swear aloud; I may be the size of a beluga, but at least I’m a classy beluga.) Holy mother of Jaybus, I weigh how much??

I do not weigh myself religiously; if the doctor didn’t do it, I wouldn’t either, and perhaps we’d all be better off in blissful ignorance. In peacetime I tend to gauge my weight by the size and fit of my favorite clothing, so I don’t actually know what I weighed when Mayhem came aboard. But even if we assume that I was up maybe 25 pounds over my wedding weight on Day 1, I have STILL gained more weight so far in this pregnancy than most people ever do. Eeeeek.

Wise folk assure me that this is no cause for alarm. I look pregnant, not fat, and pregnant is beautiful. I don’t have gestational diabetes, I’m nowhere near “eating for two” portionwise, and my appetite is more or less normal compared to the insatiable black hole that was my first trimester. Breastfeeding, which I hope to pull off with Mayhem, is reputed to melt away pregnancy weight. And even if it doesn’t, I am an old pro at dieting. Not by nature, nor by accident, have I managed to wear a size 6 for the past four years. It’s no fun, but it’s doable. (Especially on maternity leave, where the weak watery head-fog of caloric deprivation might not represent that much of a departure from S.O.P.)

Nonetheless, it’s mildly discouraging to have surpassed my plus-size weight at a mere seven months pregnant. I’ve got twelve more weeks to go, and by all accounts, this is when the Serious Weight Gain kicks in — the packing-on of pounds for which the past few months was a mere dress rehearsal.

Oiy.

Fortunately Pitango Gelato‘s spicy chocolate sorbet is fat free.

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