“Try to watch that weight gain.”

This is something that’s been a recurring theme of my OB appointments this pregnancy. Despite throwing up an enormous amount of my food during the first 16 weeks, I’ve somehow managed to pack on a solid 30 lbs. by week 22.

With Mickey, I allowed myself to eat anything and everything I wanted. I literally gave into every single craving and never felt bad about it. I had gone through so much to get pregnant that I was going to enjoy every single second of it.

I was also a nervous wreck that if I worked out, I’d lose the baby. No one told me that was going to happen. In fact, until my placenta was low, I was encouraged to work out. But, I decided it was best I remain sedentary. I had Michael to turn me so I wouldn’t develop bed sores, so what was the point of physical movement?

I ended up packing on almost 60 lbs. I was overly confident that I’d lose that almost immediately after delivery. I know the postpartum body is something I’ve talked about a lot, but that’s because when you’re not expecting it, it catches you off guard. And for me, I was in SHOCK of what my body looked like following delivery.

Now, thanks to the asshole power of social media, I’m very aware that some women bounce back very quickly. And, like I’ve said before, that was NOT my experience. This bitch looked pregnant for at least three months after having my daughter.

So, going into this pregnancy, knowing it took me a solid year to get that 60 lbs. off, I have been trying everything in my power to not blow up like I did with her.

I’ve been working out at least every other day. Thanks to my Peloton bike, I’m able to grab a ride whenever Mickey’s sleeping or at daycare. I haven’t craved sweets like I did with my first pregnancy, so not eating donuts and cookies hasn’t been an issue at all.

My kryptonite this pregnancy has been the dreaded JBC. If you’ve never had the pleasure of a Wendy’s Junior Bacon Cheeseburger, don’t walk; run and get yourself one. So minus the occasional JBC, I’ve mostly been eating relatively healthy. I’m actually craving salads and spicy foods, so it’s been mostly hummus with hot sauce and every form of salad possible. (Full disclosure- I eat 95% of my salads with ranch dressing. I realize that’s completely defeating the purpose of eating greens to keep off weight.)

Despite my “best” efforts, I am packing it on. Thanks to the My UPMC App, I’m actually able to go and check what my weight was at every OB visit with Mickey. And, at 22 weeks I was a cool 175. I remember being shocked by how much weight I had gained, but figured it would melt right off of me, so it really didn’t phase me too much.

Well this time around I’m a solid 186 lbs. at 22 weeks. HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE? I’m working out, I’m eating MUCH healthier than I did last time, and I’m physically more active chasing around a two year old.

Now mind you, I’ve always been slim thick. So even when I’m in the best of shape, I am very thick from the waist down. I carry 90% of my body weight in my ass and thighs.. My mom used to joke that we have strong Polish legs that are great for working in fields. That’s every girl’s dream; to have legs that look like you’d exceed at manual labor. If I were single that would probably be my Tinder bio.

So, when I gain during pregnancy, my ass and thighs do most of the heavy lifting. And, my God, they are putting in some work this time around. It’s to the point where booty legitimately doesn’t even fit into thongs. That doesn’t even make sense. My ass could swallow up a small child or animal without me even noticing.

Usually the size of my ass really isn’t really my concern, but because I know what my upper body is going to look like for a while post baby, well that’s where my anxiety is coming in.

Now that I don’t have the benefit of naiveity, I’m freaking out a bit. There is no way I’m not going to be well over 200 lbs. by the time this man-child is born. And, I’m having this kid the week the pools open for the summer.

Good fucking luck getting my body anywhere near a swimsuit, let alone a pair of shorts and a tank top.

Because here’s the problem; when your belly is sticking out past your feet, your thighs and ass look smaller in comparison. But, once you pop that belly balloon, and your postpartum midsection is just hanging there, suddenly you realize your legs touch from the top of your thighs to your ankles.

And, now knowing how long it took for me to START to feel and look like myself again, proves that it’s going to be well into the winter months before I’m showing any skin.

I certainly hope my toddler is prepared for a lot of indoor summer activities. Or, I hope family and friends are willing to take her swimming without me. Because, unless I’m deep sea diving, at night, in a fucking full-body wetsuit, this will most likely be a very dry summer for this chick.