It drives me absolutely insane how my aunt constantly lectures me every single time we talk or see each other. She just keeps repeating, "You have to be careful!" over and over again.
I mean, seriously, do I really look that brainless? Does she think I don't realize there are things you just shouldn't do while pregnant, or like I’m actually going to go out of my way to be reckless?!
Today, she calls up, my husband picks up, she asks what I'm doing, he says I'm just cleaning out the fridge... and of course, there it is: "You've got to be careful!" Careful of what, exactly? What am I supposed to be protecting myself from inside a refrigerator? Polar bears? 😠😠😠😠
It’s driving me insane. I have exactly three pairs of pants left that I can even button up, and even then, I have to leave the top button undone. 😠Dammit, I never liked low-rise jeans anyway; everything sits way too low on my hips...it’s ridiculous. And when I actually sit down in them? It’s uncomfortable, almost painful... 😢.
If I had gained massive amounts of weight all over, I’d blame it on that, but it’s strictly just my stomach. My hips and butt—where I usually put on weight—fit perfectly fine in everything...and honestly, looking at the scale, it shouldn't even be this big of an issue...
I get that a growing belly is inevitable, but the whole point is that tomorrow marks exactly 14 weeks 🙂🙂🙂🤔🤦 of pregnancy, and now I’m freaking out that this extra size is just excess amniotic fluid or some sign that something is wrong...my appointment isn't until the 26th...who can wait that long? 😢
steelowl10 said:Please tell me I'm not the only one dealing with this...
I feel like a balloon about to pop. My stomach looks more like I’m 20 weeks along instead of just 11.🙄 And don't even get me started on the smell—I definitely don't smell like roses right now.😛 Honestly, I'm pretty sure I could inflate a massive bouncy castle at a kid's birthday party just using my own gas.😲 (Sorry to everyone reading this, but seriously, imagine how I feel 🤦).
And the worst part? I can't seem to stop eating.😠
I'm genuinely worried that something won't look right at my next checkup.😢
Oh, and for the record, my partner and I are atheists. We aren't doing a baptism or anything like that.😛 So, what? What's the big deal?
As for me, 😍😍 things finally started shifting at week 13. My upper belly is deflating, but the bottom part is starting to round out... I assume that's normal? 🤷 Up until now, I just looked like a Zeppelin. 😂 And yeah, I have the exact same phobia about the next appointment...
Guys, it looks like my partner and I are actually going to buy an apartment... a great place at a decent price... but I think I still need to talk him into it. The catch is that my parents live in the same building. 😂😂😂
Dammit, I really can't afford any complications right now. If they tell me I need bed rest, I have no idea how we're going to handle the mortgage...😢
(Of course, the whole situation is driving me crazy 😠)
A colleague of mine—someone I’ve been grinding with for the last two months on a mountain of paperwork for our department's accreditation—has stomach cancer. 😢😢😢😢😢😢😢😢
She’s sticking it out with me until the end of the week before she goes on medical leave for surgery and everything else.
It didn't make me angry or annoyed... it just... hit me hard. 😢 She's my mom's age, so I immediately called my mother to check in and see how she was doing.
Anthony Watson35 said:Kaktusić, I totally feel you. 😢 The whole car situation here is a mess... well, mostly because we don't even have one. I’m lagging way behind everyone else—still grinding just to pass my driver's test—but I seriously need to get it over with ASAP. And then what? Once I actually have my license, I’ve got nothing to drive. My husband has this massive work van, and honestly, he's making a mistake. I am NOT driving a damn van!!! So, my mom offered to take out a loan—we'd just pay her back monthly—so we could grab a small, decent little car. But nope. Mr. "I don't want any debt" says no. Well, guess what? I don't want you buying some absolute junker from 28 years ago for $1000 and no, I am NOT putting my kid in that death trap, period!!! As long as his parents—Always Right—bought themselves a shiny new ride for over $20,000, they're happy. That car is five years old and was already too old for the Queen Mother. Did anyone bother to ask us what we actually needed? Not a chance. 🙂
😘 😂 is exactly the same. 😂 I bought a new car two years before we even got married. I pay for it with my own money, using my own loan, and he still hasn't stopped nagging me about wasting cash on something that was technically "pre-owned." He’s been such a pest about it. Okay, fine, I agree that if you buy from a reputable dealer, a used car is a better deal than a new one, but for the love of God, no one can convince me it's inherently more reliable, safer, or less worn down. Look, I'm a typical victim of consumerist capitalism, whatever. For my own peace of mind—even if it seems stupid—I want a new car. I'm paying for my sanity, even if it's irrational. Why is it such a huge deal to just accept that? 🤷
Austin Ramirez3 said:It basically goes like this: "We can't help meddling because we're just so worried about the baby's future! The whole wedding would be for the baby's sake. We have to stop thinking about ourselves and focus on the little one. It's all for the baby." 😬
They even went on about how much trauma I'd cause my own kid once they realize they were conceived outside of marriage. 🤷I'm just a single mom, what am I supposed to do? 🤣
Honestly, it sounds totally ridiculous typing this out, but people actually believe this stuff. And they aren't even uneducated—they've lived their whole lives in places like Chicago, they read books, they have electricity, TV, high-speed internet, hot water... everything. 🤣
Seriously guys, it’s unbelievable but true—a nurse at a local clinic in a suburb told me that kids born out of wedlock are treated differently even at the hospital! Back then, I didn't know if I should laugh or cry. 🤷 Like, are other babies going to point at him and refuse to play? I mean, come on, I refuse to believe there's any other reason! 😕
😂 😂...I was conceived out of wedlock and don't have any trauma from that. My trauma comes from the fact that my parents only got married because my mom was pregnant. Because of that, I had to listen to my dad constantly talking about how much money he could have made if there hadn't been two of us working in Germany... and listening to my mom talk about how she married an idiot and everything she endured in life because of me, because if it wasn't for me, she would've dumped him and been happy... and all that. That is where I actually got traumatized. To this day, I feel guilty and indebted just for existing. 🤷
The absolute best part? He actually has the nerve to call me "irresponsible" because I’m angry and upset. Apparently, my mood is a safety hazard for the baby. When I pointed out that the best way to help would be to stop triggering me in the first place—specifically by a) acting like a petulant child who thinks they're too grown up to play nice, b) finally deciding on an apartment style and actually sticking to it, c) making a final call on whether we’re renting a place while we sell our condo, and d) for the love of God, listening to my parents who have bought and sold homes three times and whose dad has spent 40 years in construction... well, he just concluded that I’m using my pregnancy to emotionally blackmail him. Like I’m supposed to have some onboard switch to just turn off my frustration whenever he feels uncomfortable. Now, he thinks I’m staying worked up just to make him feel guilty.
He still hasn't washed the damn dishes. Honestly, he’s the only person on this entire planet capable of staring at a pile of moldy dishes for three days straight without feeling even a slight urge to clean them. And I’m not touching them. We had a clear agreement: whoever cooks doesn't do the dishes. I am not cleaning up his massive mess until it hits the ceiling.
I’m not usually one for hysterics—honestly, I haven't even had a single bout of morning sickness during this entire pregnancy—but my husband pushed my buttons so hard today that I spent half an hour sobbing like a toddler until my stomach actually turned. I was hunched over the toilet, retching from pure stress and nerves, until my abdomen started cramping up. Seriously, if I hadn't managed to calm down, I would've ended up in the ER. I’m staring at the Xanax right now, seriously considering just taking something to take the edge off.
Is it actually possible for a grown adult to be this immature? We were discussing buying a house, and the second he hears something he doesn't want to deal with—like being told you can't find a south-facing place with an ocean view, mid-level floor, and a parking spot for $130,000, or that west-facing isn't the same thing as south-facing—he just shuts down and says, "I'm done talking."
Today I proudly asked her if my hips were widening again, assuming the answer was yes because a) I’ve been up three sizes for a month now, b) I’m walking my heart out every single day and honestly feel tighter, c) none of my pants fit right anymore (even if I can barely button them at the waist).
She just gives me this look and goes, "I don't know... you definitely look wider to me..."😢😢🙂🙂🙂🙂 🙂
She was in such a rush to catch her show that we didn't really dive into it, but then she called me later. When I told her the scale hasn't budged, she insisted my stomach had grown, though she couldn't quite tell which part of me was actually expanding—she just knew something had changed. 😠😠
I love my mother, but sometimes I just want to strangle her.
Rebecca Vaughn7, for heaven's sake, get a grip. You can absolutely have spotting during pregnancy—it’s not some unheard-of anomaly. If that’s what’s happening, both you and the baby need medical attention immediately. And if you aren't pregnant? Then clearly something is wrong and you need to see a doctor right now.
By the way, go take a test tomorrow morning. Just so you don't show up to the clinic looking completely clueless, though I know that’s asking a lot at this point.
I braced myself mentally for our morning 🙂 again (the doctor gave us the green light on Wednesday, but we haven't even made it to 🤦 yet), so I actually dragged myself out of bed thirty minutes early just to get ready... then I crawled right back under the covers. He’s sleeping soundly, I’m trying to be affectionate, and he just rolls over to the other side. 😠 Whatever. I figured, fine, let him sleep and we'll deal with it when he wakes up... but nope. His phone starts blaring immediately because the local chess club is calling about some kid's tournament and they need him to prep their assignments. Suddenly, he’s wide awake. I’m up too, already feeling my blood pressure rise. I brew the damn coffee, and then, as he's heading out the door, he casually mentions the bathroom floor is dusty and needs cleaning. 😠😠😠 I know the damn floor is dusty, :asshole:, but I'm waiting for you to scrub it along with the rest of the bathroom because I am NOT in the mood to deal with bleach and Lysol today!!!! 😠😠😠
Jason Lee2 said:My sister is a karate practitioner, black belt (soon to be 2nd dan). She inherited all the athletic genes. So, once again, I’d feel awkward and defective standing next to her. As for coordination... my only decent grades in school were in PE. Honestly, it was embarrassing. I pulled A's in Chemistry, Math, and Physics, but in PE, it was straight D's...
I didn't have 20 extra pounds; it was "only" about ten. Just enough to leave lasting trauma. Before I could even stop taking medication, I had to go see a psychologist. Then my dad had to swear to me (and I considered making him sign a legal contract) that if I didn't get my waist and figure back within six months after giving birth, he'd sell his Apple stock so I could afford liposuction. Because otherwise, I won't stop taking the pills! And... the greatest fuckup is... 😉
😍 That was exactly my experience too. My damn P.E. grade was always a mediocre C, and it absolutely tanked my GPA. Because of that one class, I barely scraped a 3.8...😠
But when I stop obsessing over how I look, the sense of time passing and the post-workout rush is priceless. I don't even know how to describe it better than just feeling powerful. I know, sounds stupid, but that's really it. I guess I'm just hooked on those endorphins. When my trainer told me yesterday that I could finally lift 5-pound weights, I felt like a kid in a candy store. 😍
bopsich, I'm so sorry about how your grandma reacted. Seriously, it looks like we get the dumbest reactions from the very families you'd expect to have your back most...🤷 I'm still holding out hope that my mom will show at least a shred of interest in a potential grandkid, but so far, absolutely nothing from her side...😢😢😢
On topic—people's reactions drive me crazy when I tell them I plan to work full-time, assuming there aren't any complications (aside from my mother—she refuses to even hear about any other option 😍). majkati, everyone acts shocked like I just said I was going bungee jumping. 😕 What is so weird about preferring to feel productive instead of sitting around the house all day? 🤷
Growing up, I was carrying an extra 45 pounds, and even now, I’m stuck with the loose skin on my stomach and neck because of it. Honestly, I hated my childhood because of that weight. When I was 13, a hyperactive dog basically forced me into gym class 😍. After he passed away, I started hitting the home gym and going for walks on my own, then eventually picked up Tae Kwon Do in my mid-20s. You couldn't drag me into a team sport with a gun to my head; I was so incredibly clumsy that I’d just embarrass my team during PE. God, those memories still sting...🤦 But once I discovered martial arts, 😍 you just get in the zone and let loose. I stopped caring if I looked ugly or if I was sweating buckets, because everyone else is in the exact same boat—totally absorbed in their own strikes and their opponents. Nobody is there to talk trash about you being the slowest, the heaviest, or the most pathetic... you are your own only judge. That’s how I managed to grind my way to a blue belt. I actually aimed for brown, but life had other plans 😍 But the trauma from being overweight? It stays with you. The mere thought of gaining that 45 pounds back makes me physically sick...😢 My heart literally starts skipping beats at the idea...
Jason Lee2 said:The only thing I actually enjoyed about being pregnant. Unfortunately, within twelve hours, she made her escape, grabbed my towel and umbrella, and headed south 😢 Obviously, that extra fifteen pounds on my waist didn't help much. My family even brought over some snacks during my ten days of bed rest, so now I'm struggling to lose it all. (When you're 5'2", three pounds feels like a massive amount) I used to have such a nice waistline... and a nearly flat stomach... 😢
😘😘😘🙂
I’d love to tell you that you'll have a flat stomach again in no time, but let's be real: there's a much higher chance you'll just end up with a little ball that keeps growing and growing and growing...😘
As for height... I'm 5'4" 😬 and seriously, every single ounce shows. I was never thin—usually hovered around 130-135 lbs depending on the phase (mostly muscle from working out)—but now I'm at 145 and it is painfully obvious.😢
Jonathan Grant2 said:Honestly, I’m getting so incredibly fed up with all the comments about my looks and my weight.😠 Today, my mom, my sister, and I were out hiking some trails, and my mom turns to me and goes, "Oh, you've finally gotten your waist looking good and slimmed down a bit, don't go ruining it now."😲Like, what the hell?🙄> Then my sister—who, mind you, has put on 25 pounds during her pregnancy—chimes in with, "Well, you can still lose weight, at least you have five months left."😳So I just gave her this super sarcastic look and said, "What, you want me to go on one of those crazy crash diets?"🙄> > I know they love me, and I realize they aren't saying these things just to get under my skin, but seriously, have a little tact. Just think for a second before you open your mouth, for crying out loud.😠>
Ugh, welcome to the club.😍
One of the first—and honestly, one of the only—comments my mother made about my pregnancy was, "If you just sit around all day, you’re going to end up weighing 220 pounds." Then she had the nerve to tell me my backside had sagged and spread out like some 70-year-old woman's. Unbelievable. 😢
I mean, for God's sake... if I had packed on 20 pounds during those eight or nine weeks of pregnancy, I wouldn't be complaining. But no. Instead, I’ve somehow gained 6 pounds—and let’s be honest, one of those was extra weight I already carried before I even got pregnant. It could have been less, sure, but according to my BMI and height calculations, the "ideal" gain should have only been about 4 pounds. So, technically, it isn't a disaster. I just don't get it. What gives?
Look at these comments. Just look at them. People are losing their minds. 😠😠😠 I absolutely lost it yesterday. Some woman at work asked me to check her blood pressure because she was feeling dizzy. I led her into the clinic, took her reading—totally normal, by the way—and then she just drops this out of nowhere: "Well, you've certainly improved since last time..." Unbelievable. Just pure, unprovoked disrespect.
She’s got anorexia, and she’s always had this habit of unsolicitedly commenting on every single pound I gain, yet stays dead silent whenever I'm actually losing weight. Because I know her struggles, I’ve always tried to be the bigger person and bite my tongue. But today? Today I seriously had to grit my teeth to keep from snapping. I wanted to tell her, "Yeah, well, my chest is two sizes bigger now and my husband is losing his mind over it... happens when the chin widens during pregnancy." I was too anxious about my doctor's appointment to say anything, though. I didn't want to make some joke about my pregnancy only to find out the worst. Now, I'm just sitting here regretting my restraint. Honestly, I can’t wait for her to "kindly" offer another opinion on my body while I'm still riding this post-appointment high.
Look, I don't care if someone tells me, "Hey, maybe watch the calories, it might be good for you." Honestly? I welcome it. But those half-witted, backhanded jabs like, "Well, you've certainly filled out lately," drive me absolutely insane. 🙂
Look, what’s done is done. My chest is huge now... I'm pretty sure I lost at least ten pounds just in that department. 😂 At this rate, my maternity bra won't survive another week.
It’s driving me insane. I can't sleep because I'm stuck in this loop thinking about my grad school thesis proposal. I can't find a topic or a mentor to guide me, especially since nobody at my office holds an advanced degree. Every idea I come up with feels way too complicated. Time is running out, and if I don't get this submitted on schedule, I’ll have to pay back $70 $0.00 which is what they're covering for my tuition... 😢😢😢😢
And honestly? I’m also freaking out about tomorrow's physical exam. I'm so anxious I feel like my heart might actually stop beating... 😢😢😢
It absolutely infuriates me how he thinks he can just trash-talk my mother whenever he feels like it. Meanwhile, I’m not even allowed to hint that his own mother can be incredibly grating at times, no matter how well-intentioned she claims to be. These unannounced visits have become a regular thing ever since he found out I'm pregnant—he probably thinks he's doing us a favor by dropping off all this homemade food, as if the baby is going to grow up on junk mail and fast food. Of course, his mother is some untouchable saint, while mine is apparently some kind of wicked witch. 😠
Let me get this straight right off the bat: my mother-in-law is a wonderful woman. She’s dear to me, she treats me great, and honestly, any other daughter-in-law would kill to have her.
But.
Since the apartment belongs to my husband—bought long before he ever met me—she still has a key.
And she uses it whenever the hell she feels like it.
It's not like she's just barging in to cause trouble; she always brings something—homemade olive oil, fresh lemon juice, homemade this or that... which I actually really appreciate, especially the oil, since I love olive oil...
...but damn it, is it really that hard to just call and ask, "Can I stop by?"
Okay, sometimes she does call, but more often than not, I’ll walk in from work, start making the bed, cooking dinner, or just using the restroom... and then there's a knock at the door. Who the hell...? It's her. Carrying vegetables. Apparently, she was just passing by and thought she'd swing in.
Or, what really gets under my skin: I walk into the house, and there are bottles of oil on the table, bags of greens, soup for my son in our pot in the fridge (I don't even eat soup), and maybe some cake.
I know I should be grateful. The woman is putting in effort, she truly is, and it all comes from a good place... and yes, I am grateful, dammit... but is it such a massive struggle to pick up the phone and see if it's a good time to visit?
(She once told me, "I come here like it's my own home," to which I snapped, "Well, you have every right since it's your son's place." After that, she started calling to ask permission... but today, again—we get back from coffee, and there's new food sitting on the table.
Ronald Williams9 said:Some woman at the Social Security Administration really rubbed me the wrong way today. I finally got my disability approval—feeling pretty proud of myself, honestly—so I headed down there with all my paperwork ready to go. First off, she looks at me like I’m some kind of idiot, questioning why I was filing for standard maternity leave instead of something involving complications. Like, excuse me?😲 Then, she starts lecturing me because she thinks I brought in a photocopy. She’s insisting the document isn't an original because it’s been faxed.🤷 I mean, seriously? Maybe learn what an original document actually looks like before you start judging people.
According to her, it's just a copy because the director signed it with black ink instead of blue, and apparently, the stamp is black too.🤷 Everything is perfectly legible. It’s right there on the page.
It’s honestly fascinating. We’ve had four employees from the same company file for maternity leave in the last two months, and they didn't have a single issue. But for some reason, she decided I was the one to pick on.
So, yeah, I had to go back and demand the director sign everything in blue ink just to satisfy her. Now I get to deal with this headache again at the SSA next week.
I’m pretty sure this ranks in my top ten all-time bullshit moments you can experience at a service counter.😂😘
That same damn cleaning lady has gotten on my nerves twice now. She’s been riding me from day one, making these obnoxious comments about how much weight I've put on. Unbelievable.😠 Since they finally lifted my medical leave, I’ve been walking a ton. It’s actually helped my muscle tone quite a bit. I haven't gained a single pound these last few weeks—honestly, I think the extra steps might have even burned off some of the weight. Anyway, then a few days ago, she catches me changing in the locker room. She takes one look at my chest—which, let’s be real, has definitely grown, though damn it, it wasn't from fat—and she just goes, "Oooo, looks like there's plenty of material to work with!" Ran into her in the hallway yesterday. There was plenty of room for both of us to pass without an issue, yet she pulls this ridiculous maneuver like she’s trying to give me a massive wide berth. I mean, come on—I haven't exactly ballooned overnight. Then she has the nerve to smirk and say, "Oh, look at you! You're going to be giving me competition soon!" As if. She put on twenty pounds after her last pregnancy and hasn't seen a scale since. We're both short, too, which just makes the whole display even more absurd. Unbelievable. I honestly just want to know which crystal ball they’re using to predict the future. 😠
It drives me absolutely insane how my ass becomes the center of attention everywhere I go. 😠
Even at work, the cleaning lady is back at it again with her comments.
So I head over to my mom's place and ask her straight up if it's really such a disaster—mind you, I still fit into all my old jeans without a struggle—but she just tells me that yeah, it’s gotten bigger, lost its shape, and looks saggy and gross, like some old lady. 😢
Give me a break. I was on bed rest just three days ago because of some bleeding, and she has the nerve to tell me, "You didn't even need to rest; you'd look the same whether you walked or stayed still, and you'd probably look more normal now." Then she lights up a cigarette and fills the whole room with smoke (since she smoked while I was being carried around, and now I'm supposedly "back to normal"). 😠😠 😠
Yeah, right. I guess that's what happens when you go from daily workouts to nothing but sitting, lying down, and pacing a hallway. Thank God they finally cleared me for activity, otherwise I'd be totally screwed... I've started walking an hour a day again, so hopefully that does something. 🤷