I’ve recently been watching what I eat—I’ve essentially turned the vegetarian corner, not that that’s relevant here—and exercising more. I’ve lost a couple of dress sizes in the last few months, which would be awesome if it were not for my family and friends asking me if I’m sick. How I have time to work out and not eat the kids’ chicken nuggets and cheese cubes is beyond me, but I find the time. But nowadays, I’m leaner, stronger, have more endurance than a post-partum mom breastfeeding twins. Oh… wait. Yeah–been there done that. I’m the Foursquare mayor of Getting It Done.
A third person in as many weeks has expressed concern that I might be sick, based on random photos they’ve seen from me. I have it on good authority (my own sarcastic guesses) that these are the same people who touch a pregnant woman’s belly at the grocery store. So on the one hand, I take it as a compliment (I guess?), but on the other hand I’m annoyed. And not for the reason you might think.
Where were these people when I could have found them useful? When I was pregnant with twins and on bed rest and had to order grocery delivery and find someone to drive me to perinatologist appointments? When I needed someone to shovel Twinkies and tater tots into my mouth when I found out I wasn’t gaining weight at any sort of ideal level? In fact, I lost weight when I was pregnant with the twins—how messed up is that? I was one of those pregnant-with-twins mothers who you’d never guess was pregnant until I turned around to face you. So hey, all you people who apparently love me and hope I am okay (in your own passive-aggressive ways)–now that I’m not pregnant, why is it so hard to get a friggin compliment on my middle section?
I guess metabolism is a tricky thing. Also not overly-hard boiling eggs. That’s tricky as all get out, too.