Ugh...

I'm officially a cow.  My blueberry sized baby apparently now weighs 7 pounds.  Yes, that is how much I gained in one month.  SERIOUSLY!  The little chunkster has been forcing me to eat crappy and unhealthy and about twice as much as normal.  Why oh why have I been cursed with a man who weighs 140 and eats cherry pie and red bull for breakfast?  The man can devour a bag of kit kats or nutty bars faster than a cat can climb a tree.  What does this mean for me, oh fat pregnant one? So, my discipline has slipped, ok?  Yes, I admit it.  The only thing maintaining me at the chubby and curvy side of fat-ass and not over the edge of unfortunately overweight is my food intake discipline.  You might think I eat a LOT of crap, but you'd be wrong.  I just don't have any motivation or energy to get up off my ass.  I wish I could say I had the discipline to force myself to exercise everyday, because I'm educated enough to know that exercise gives you energy.  But whatever, I'm freakin' tired all the time and I'm in my first trimester people.  I sleep in my car during my lunch break. My bedtime is preferably around 8:30, and I don't mind admitting that to anyone who is interested.

I'm pissed off that I had to buy a belly band at 7 weeks pregnant.  I'm irritated at the fact that I'm so bloated and constipated I can barely function.  I feel the most unattractive I think I can possibly feel at this point and dammit, I'm not even showing yet.  Did I mention that my breasts feel like punching bags?  Yeah I think they joined fight club while I was asleep one night.  Is it possible to outgrow your bra at 7 weeks?  If I keep this up, what's next? My shoes will probably stop fitting by next month. Ugh. I feel like crap. Horrible day for the self esteem. Someone light my pants on fire, I need a good workout...