Since I have very little to do and a lot of time to do it in, I’m taking advantage of my Y membership. I mean, they take the $38 out of my bank account every month so I assumed the building hadn’t burned down or been closed by the health department because of that smell in the locker room. So this week I trudged my lazy butt down the hill for a little exercise. Movement no longer triggers immediate vomiting and my steady diet of pasta and french fries is starting to take it’s toll on my *insert body part here*.

I usually take classes, but since I’m not supposed to spend too much time on my back (ironic, seeing as how that’s what got me fat to begin with. ba-dum-ching) Pilates and yoga are out. The equipment in the gym is pretty nice – although I think the StairMaster tried to kill me once – but I’m afraid of the weight machines. I’ve used similar machines before, in the college gym and then in the gym I joined before my wedding, but the Y is a much smaller place. You don’t get 5 minutes to figure out how to adjust the weight before someone is standing over your shoulder “aheming” and sighing because you interrupted their flow. Luckily the gym isn’t crowded at 11 am on a Thursday, so I had time to mess around. I’m going to focus on my arms, since my abs and ass are a lost cause until after April 1st.

My Y also has 2 pools – a nice warm one for kids and a bigger (colder) lap pool for adults. Ok, this is going to sound ridiculous considering I am one of the weakest, slowest swimmers in the world, but I really loved watching the Olympic swimmers and sort of imagine myself being that awesome some day. Especially  Dara Torres, with her fantastic abs and adorable daughter. In an interview she said she started swimming while she was pregnant as a way to stay in shape. Hey, I’m pregnant! I want to stay get in shape! I would also like a washboard stomach and shiny white teeth, although she may not have gotten the last one from doing laps. I realize I will never be in the Olympics and I may never wear a 2-piece bathing suit again after the baby moves out, but the water feels nice and the repetitive, soft movements are really relaxing. It’s the kind of exercise I might actually stick with, even if I have to waddle the 20 feet from the locker room to the edge and then roll myself into the water. But I’m not going to think about that part of pregnancy yet, since I’m kind of enjoying it right now.

I read somewhere that vitamin C helps prevent stretch marks, so I decided to up my intake. I’ve started drinking lots of orange juice and eating lots of carrots (those have vitamin C, right?). My baby might come out the color of a Oompa Loompa but at least I’ll get back in my bikini some day.

Also, my fingernails and eyelashes are suddenly ridiculously long. It’s nice to have at least two parts of my body cooperating.

Name a part of your body that you don’t think can get fat. Your wrists, your ankles, your ears, your toes, your hands. When you are pregnant, this is no longer true. My shoes are giving me blisters in places they used to fit. My boots won’t zip over my ankles. I swear my headbands are tighter, which would mean either my head or my hair is fatter. Today while I was being RESPONSIBLE and HEALTHY and getting my 30 minutes of light to moderate exercise my hands swelled up like balloons. It felt like an allergic reaction (to exercise??!?!?!) but I’m pretty sure I was just retaining water. I couldn’t even make a fist. I can’t even get my wedding ring off anymore, which is really cutting into my free drinks at the bar. KIDDING. Of course I still get free drinks, have you seen my boobs? STILL KIDDING. I’ll ask my doctor about the hand-swelling at my appointment next week, but I’m sure the answer is YOU’RE PREGNANT, DUMMY.

Today was my first real day of unemployment. Yesterday I was still homeless, so I amused myself by wandering around town drinking hot chocolate and watching the ducks at the marina. Not very productive but the weather was lovely and I’ve started to get my energy back, so wandering + chocolate was just what I needed. I even made it to the YMCA for some time on the elliptical machine and a few laps in the pool. I felt like such a GOOD pregnant woman!

Today I wanted to shoot myself. I think that might be bad for the baby though. I woke up at 8, and decided I should definitely get started with my housewifing. All our family room furniture was still in the dining room and the dining room furniture is in the living room, but I can’t lift couches and bookcases myself so I stuck to putting things back in closets and doing laundry. I did all the laundry, even washing the sheets and towels that no one had used. I emptied my closets of all the clothes I don’t plan to wear (about half of them) and that no longer fit (the other half). We haven’t cooked at home in a week so there weren’t any dishes. I bought groceries. I walked the dog twice, finished the novel I was reading, watched Judge Judy and made dinner. Now that E is home I at least have someone to talk to, but I think he’s a little overwhelmed by my desire to hear about every single detail of his day involving talking to actual people.

The last time I tried housewifery (probably not a real word) it was only for 3 months. I amused myself by baking. I also gained 20 – ok, 30 – pounds and I wasn’t pregnant. This time I am determined not to eat my weight in cookie dough, even if the baby is screaming right now for some chocolate chip. Maybe I’ll stick to one pie/cake/batch of cookie/type of brownie a week, and perfect my low-fat baked chicken receipe instead. If I can find one of those.

Really, I should remember that I am lucky. Most mothers (even if all I’m mothering at the moment is a tadpole and a dog) would love the chance to stay home. I actually have time to take up a hobby. I’m filling out volunteer applications. I can swim laps for five hours a day if I want. But in reality, I don’t know anyone who doesn’t work. I don’t have any mommy friends to have lunch with. I can’t just wander around town harassing women into conversation. I guess once I have a baby to drag around (outside my uterus) I can join a playgroup – preferable the kind that provides cocktails. But for now I’m a semi-desperate stay at home pregnant woman who would like you to come pick up a dozen cookies as soon as possible.

Today is my last day in the office. I wasn’t expecting to leave so soon but the company’s trying to cut costs and I guess having someone here to answer the phone isn’t a priority. I might be a little sad, but I know in my heart they’re going to be reeeeeally sorry. They have no idea how much crap I take care of when no one else is here, but I’m going to be too busy sitting on my couch eating bonbons to care.

Since I’m going to have so much free time on my hands I’ve been thinking about volunteering. Lord knows there are plenty of places in my community that could use me, I just haven’t ever actually made a call and committed myself. But this morning I think my mind was made up for me. My office is in a building with a lot of doctors and lawyers. It also happens to be the home of Planned Parenthood. It’s a great location – central to the whole Eastern half of the state, just off the highway, not far from the high school – if it weren’t for the protesters. EVERY DAY these people, sometimes 2, sometimes 10, sometimes more, are out front with their signs, marching up and down the sidewalk. Sometimes they bring their young kids or babies with them, which annoys me on a totally other level.

This morning there was a woman standing right next to my parking space with a sign that almost made me run her over with my car. It has an adorable, chubby cheeked baby with a huge grin and the words say “Smile! I’m a life!” Oh, wait you mean they murder babies at the Planned Parenthood? Well that’s horrible! All you pro-choicers must be evil, baby hating monsters. I bet you kick puppies too. ACK. I wanted to shake her and yell “Women don’t have abortions because they hate cuteness! Women have abortions because people like you take away their access to birth control and sex education!!”

After I get out of work, I’m martching my knock-up butt right down to PP and asking if they need any volunteers. Then I’m going outside to to suggest the protesters go do something that ACTUALLY HELPS CHILDREN, like volunteer at the soup kitchen or become a foster parent. You’ll have to excuse me if I’m not very polite, I’m feeling quite hormonal today.