I just got an email from US Weekly: Usher Welcomes Second Son, Names Baby “Naviyd Ely”‏

I wonder what the Scrabble score is for that?

Thank you everyone for the encouraging, body-affirming messages of reassurance on my last annoying, whiny fat post. You support – plus a large piece of pie – has calmed me considerably and I plan to stop worrying for at least another 6 months. I will try to keep my future complaints in that department to a minimum, unless I have something funny to share. How’s this for funny – I got my first stretch mark today! I almost cried! Hilarious, right? Sorry.

Actually, I’ve been walking around all week saying “Don’t I look small for 24 weeks pregnant?” and “Really, I don’t think I’ll get huge at all!” Then God looked down on me and said “AHAHAHAHAHAHA!” I tried to take a picture this afternoon to show you how “small” I looked, but some crazy woman who swallowed a watermelon kept jumping in front of me. And I know this is really, really disturbing and in no way do I mean anything by it, but I looked up infant viability today and was pleased to discover that my baby currently has an 80% chance of survival were he to make his debut right now. You know, just in case he decided he didn’t want to ruin my body anymore and would rather come out here where he can annoy the crap out of both parents equally. Please don’t think I’m a terrible mother, I swear it’s just the crazy pregnancy hormones. I mean, I’ve started crying during episodes of  What Not To Wear, I don’t think rational is in my vocabulary any more.

…a million years ago when I was complaining about having a mustache? And I got all worried about sun exposure and bought a giant hat? Well unless my computer screen has started giving off UVA rays, my brown splotchy mustache is just a side effect of pregnancy rather than sunlight. My skin is completely clear and non-oily for the first time in my entire life, I suppose expecting to remain mustacheless is too much to ask. So much for enjoying a make-up free existence.

“Post-baby bod”

Those three (two? two and a half?) words make me want to throw up. Especially if I have just eaten an entire bag of Skittles and or a whole apple pie. US Weekly just sent me an email about how Ashley Simpson “revealed” her post-natal figure at a concert last night in NYC. I am ashamed to admit, I looked at the pictures, but all Ashley revealed was that it was effing cold in the Northeast this week and a large coat was in order. I thought this kind of judging only took place in the tabloid world of actresses and models, but now I’m afraid it’s become common place even among us regular folks.

There is a lovely woman in the Navy wives’ group I’m a part of who had a beautiful baby girl about a month ago. She actually made it to the November meeting only three days after having a C-section (she said the drugs were AWESOME) but last night was the first time I’ve ever seen her not pregnant. Not only did she look happy, glowy and well rested, she was wearing regular pants. ONE MONTH out of her pregnancy and she can fit in her jeans. One month INTO my pregnancy I was already wearing maternity pants. Then everyone started talking about how much weight they gained with their babies and I got even more depressed. One woman said she only gained nine pounds with her daughter, making her highest weight ever 119 pounds. I said I gained nine pounds yesterday. The tone of  the conversation was “Good for you, brand new mom, for not being one of those women who lets themselves go after a baby!” as opposed to “Wow, some people are just genetically blessed, aren’t they?”

I started this pregnancy only 5 or 6 pounds technically overweight, but about 30 pounds heavier than I want to be. I’m screwed all around. My “post-baby bod” is going to be pretty much the same as my during-baby bod, except instead of being happy when people ask if I’m pregnant I’ll be pissed off. I cannot begin to explain the weird and unhealthy relationships I’ve had with food over the years and how soul-suckingly time consuming it is for me to lose weight. My only hope is that keeping my Y membership active and breastfeeding regularly will make enough of a dent in my very extended waistline that I can avoid the serious medical consequences of being overweight permanently.

Now I’m off to try these pregnancy workout DVDs I ordered, although avoiding all social interaction for the next year might be easier.

The baby usually starts kicking around 11 pm, so for an hour before I go to bed we have a little bonding time. Tonight he’s been really lazy so I decided to give him some music in case he felt like dancing. Within seconds of putting E’s big, fancy headphones on my belly the baby started kicking like crazy. It’s amazing that he can actually hear in there! So far he’s liked Regina Spektor and Justin Timberlake the best, but I’m going to try everything in my iTunes library because this is so much fun.