To be fair, I seem to be in a general down in the dumps mood at the moment. A few things in addition to pregnancy hormones contribute to that, but I could stretch those out to another 3 posts, that – surprise – aren’t pregnancy related, so I will save those for now.

The beauty of a first time pregnancy, aside from all the worry, is the ignorance. I just didn’t know how my body would react to the weight gain, so it didn’t seem excessive. I had every reason to believe that my body would behave in the same manner it did to every other time I had picked up the odd couple of extra kg’s: watch what I eat for a bit, and it’d slip off. I also thought I would be back in the saddle after 6 weeks and back in competition after 3 months, easily taking up my 5-6 times a week horse-riding schedule again.

What I didn’t acknowledge is that 13 kg’s of fat is not a couple; my effortlessly trim figure probably had a big dependency on my horse-riding activities; and my horse riding activities would not resume their former schedule any time in my foreseeable future.

And a year carrying a fluctuating 7 – 10 extra kg’s killed my body image. It dipped my self confidence, changed my dress sense, stole my sexy and sowed the seeds of figure envy for every trim woman I meet, especially those with children.

And that’s what I am afraid of happening again. I know I can apply the logic that I did eventually loose most of the weight, but I didn’t lose it for long enough to be assured that I could keep it off, before I fell pregnant again.

 This time around, I’m worrying about losing the weight before I have even put it on. I’m on the scale every couple of days, I’m pre-resenting my decision to breastfeed because that means I won’t be able to start a diet the day the baby is born, I actively loathe the SA pregnancy magazine that always has the skinny pregnant women on the cover (even though it has the best pregnancy fashion bits) and I’m comparing myself to every other pregnant woman I see. And this is not right. This is not how a pregnancy should be.

But the knowledge I gained about my body in my last pregnancy doesn’t easily let me abandon all concerns during this one, and the fear of again becoming the green eyed monster when I realize I can’t fit into my working wardrobe after 4 months of maternity leave, well it scares me. I don’t like being that insecure that it makes me dislike people for no good reason.

There. Rant over. Now that I have told the world exactly how superficial I really am, maybe I can move on from this and start enjoying this pregnancy for the miracle that it is.

Back when we were cutesy and dating Hunny and I played some playstation games together: golf, worms: non-combat type things. I’d start out okay but then I’d quickly get frustrated at my inability to master the controllers, annoyed at loosing all the time. Hunny has been playing PC and playstation games for years, obviously he’ll be better at this than me (not even counting in that he’s naturally gifted at just about everything!), but after a hour or so I was so wound up and irritated that we’d stop playing.

I was naive enough to think that the Wii would be a leveler. New platform, different and more intuitive controllers, we’d be starting from the same base so perhaps my natural talents (haven’t found them yet!) would finally start to show themselves and I could win something for a change. Not so. I spent 4 hours on Tuesday honing my skills on my own, but two sets into our first game of Tennis later that evening and he’s thrashing me all over again. He hits harder, learns quicker, reacts faster and my poor little Mii is eating his Mii’s dust

That brings on my sulks all over again. This should be something we can do together, but I just don’t handle constantly loosing very well. What do I do? Make Hunny play left handed so I can win? There’s no victory in that either … *sigh* Any suggestions?

Still on the subject of the Wii, Hunny has our households first Wiinjury (Wii injury). His shoulder is “a bit funky” this morning, he thinks from playing baseball on the Wii. Actually, there might be an angle there. If he gets a few more injuries maybe I’ll get the upper hand

And still on the subject of my Hunny: Happy Wellingtons day my lovely husband. You’re still my best Wellington ever.

Some days though I do wish I had an anonymous blog that I could spill my unkind and traitorous thoughts onto. I do have them: ugly jealousy, bitter self-pity, raw anger and soul-squashing depression are parts of who I am also. Not my favorite parts, and I’m continually working on keeping them at a minimum, but parts of me that not everyone wants or needs to know about.

Obviously I could start another blog that gives no indication of me as it’s creator, but I don’t get around to updating this one often enough so having two would just be impractical. Which means that for now my evil thoughts will roll around in the privacy of my car and the seclusion of my head. I hope they don’t rot the upholstery ….