So we all know that my stomach is huge. (Has that topic been covered? Did I mention?) But as big as it is, at my last weigh in I was still only one pound over my pre-pregnancy weight. This naturally led me to assume that my baby was made of helium. Call it vanity, call it insane (old habits die hard, peeps) but I've clung to that "only one pound" like Paris to her Bible. One pound feels sensible, manageable. And in a body that feels completely out of control, I relish manageable.
I weighed myself at the gym today.
That second trimester weight sure creeps up quick, don't it? While this is probably mostly baby fluid (and not the platter of nachos I murdered last weekend or the half a box of Newman's Chocolate Sandwich cookies or...), I'm sad to report that my precious one pound has gone the way of the dodo. WHICH IS FINE. Which is absolutely normal and fine.
But if you think I didn't make a beeline to the nearest personal trainer you don't know me at all.
While I've always been quasi fit, I've never been what one might call "bikini ready". Us McKinney's are not known for our abs of steel. (That, combined with my general distaste for all things abs-ercizy, is probably why Possum has been blessed with such roomy digs.) I told the trainer that I needed to strengthen my abs but crunches were out since I'm not allowed to lay flat on my back. Luckily I was not Brian's first pregnant trainee. Actually, he knew more about being pregnant than I did. He kept remarking how happy I must be now that I was past the "placental protein phase". I just nodded. Then Brian put me on a ball (on my back! Gah!) and had me do these super tiny crunches that looked really easy when he did them. He wanted me to tighten my tush and kept saying things like "Tighten your glutes! Go ahead and tighten your glutes!"
Sadly, I WAS tightening my glutes.
After I recovered (and after vowing to spend the rest of my pregnancy getting my ass in shape) I did what any sensible, weight-obsessed girl would do: I went out for gelato! A friend and I have been on a hunt for the city's best, so today we headed to the Upper West Side to check out Grom. Grom is known for two things: sourcing all their ingredients from Italy and their ridiculous lines. As I am the type of person who's seduced by things like overpriced ice cream and half-hour waits, I totally enjoyed it. I had the pistachio and their "extranoir" chocolate. Was it as life-altering as the reviews said? Maybe not, but I haven't tried the sorbet.
(Just don't tell Brian.)