Well, there it is

I am determined not to become "o-beast," as one of my high-schoolers put it today.

With Grace, let's just say I gained more than double the recommended weight. Let's also just say that my weight when admitted to the hospital to deliver my 8 lb, 9 oz baby was roughly the same as a small VW, which is what I told the nurse, who then insisted on my backing onto a scale. If Jerry wouldn't have been afraid of my raging hormones, he probably would have made the "beep, beep, beep" noise of heavy equipment being thrown into reverse, which would now be funny, looking back, I guess.

So, by this time, with my first pregnancy, I had gained more than double of my current weight gain, 7 pounds. Which isn't really a weight gain, so much as the last seven pounds of my baby weight that just wouldn't come off for "some reason," which turned out to be that I was, in fact, pregnant again, and my last 7 were also my 1st 7. I am still in my regular pants, though they may or may not be buttoned, depending on the time of day. I am eating reasonably (not counting the super-awesome brownies my neighbor brought over today) and exercising regularly. I feel good and I think I am barely showing. Which , considering I've only known I'm pregnant for a week, is good.

This is why I was so surprised today when I overheard my 6th period class arguing about who was going to "ask her." I knew exactly what they were wondering, and when one kid finally drew the short straw and asked, in front of the whole class, whether or not I was pregnant, I was a little dismayed. I neither confirmed nor denied....I just said to him, "do you realize you just said to me that I look chunky?" I laughed it off, and so did everyone else, but there it is.