You Can Kiss My Big Fat…

Last week at my doctor’s appointment, I told the doctor that my back was killing me. Viva piped up, “Every night when my mom comes home from work she lies on the floor and we have to shove pillows under her!” Oh, the chil’ren. There are no secrets.

At any rate, after telling me that the pants I was wearing were awful and not supporting my stomach at all and thus causing my back more strain (because hello, yes, they were not maternity pants, but they were elastic waist pants and they were one of the few things I had that were clean that I could think to pull on quickly to get to an appointment that was, due to an emergency C-section, unexpectedly pushed back to 8:15 AM when it was supposed to be at 8:45AM and I had to bring my child with me because I couldn’t drop her off at school that early and that screwed up my whole day because then the doctor didn’t even see us until 9:00 AM anyway and then I had to drive past my work to drop Viva off and circle back around and I was late as late could be) – well, after that, my doctor told me to stop by the medical supply store and purchase a maternity girdle (!!!!). I told her I already had a maternity belt from the maternity store (which admittedly, I wasn’t wearing), but she gave me a look of scorn and told me that it was not the same thing at all.

Later on in the visit, she told me I had lost 4 pounds since my last appointment. Since I “measured big” on my last appointment, I said cheerfully, “Well, that’s good then, as long as the baby’s doing all right – right?”

“Well the baby is growing fine, and that’s great. But you’re still one pound over where you should be,” she said.

Ladies and gentlemen: I am seven months pregnant and I weigh 134 pounds. There are plenty of perfectly healthy, non-pregnant women in the world – no, scratch that, in my own little circle of the universe – who weigh 134 pounds or thereabouts, and they are hardly obese. Never mind carrying about another human being in their womb.

Fortunately, I do not have body image problems or a tendency toward eating disorders, but what if I did? I’m kind of ticked off and once again missing my old OB-GYN, who no longer takes my insurance. [Insert image of me here, shaking fist at sky and screaming, “Why, God, why?”]

Since Viva was there, I didn’t make a big deal over it, but I also wasn’t going to let it go completely and let Viva absorb that lesson either. I reiterated the whole “recommended weight gain during pregnancy is 25-35 pounds” dealio, so Dr. B. knew I was on to her shit. Completely ridiculous.

So this maternity girdle thing? It looks like some sort of granny foundation garment manufactured in the 1950s. It is truly hideous. But it certainly does support my tummy and make my back feel better, so I had to make peace with it.

Also? At the medical supply place, they had a new credit card machine. They were supposed to charge me $25.00, but only charged me $0.50. I pointed out that they were only charging me fifty cents and I didn’t want to cheat them. What was hilarious is, not only did the entire family who owns the business come out from the back room to look at me and beam at my honesty, but as we were waiting for the correct charge to go through, the owner then thrust a package into my hands. “It’s washcloths,” he said. “Nice and soft for you.”

It wasn’t until I got home that I realized they were gigantic wipees for adults, which they must use to wipe the nether regions of the old and/or incontinent and/or bedridden in rest homes and the like.

Seriously, I laughed for about five minutes.