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03-23-02 - 11:58 a.m. Today I had my first pregnancy-weight-gain freakout. As I pulled on my absolute favorite pair of jeans EVER (in that they're the right length and color and make my hips, abs, and ass look sooooooooooo good), I noticed that they were considerably tighter than normal. Tighter to the point where they squished my stomach out over the waistline, reminiscent of an over-full tub of cookie dough. I about cried. Instead I whined to the one person I knew would care (Bryan), who comforted me. "Maybe they just shrank in the wash," he said. I told him I didn't think that had happened, that soon I'd be one of those sorry old women in $8 pink fluffy K-Mart house shoes clipping coupons for Snackwell's Devil's Food Cake, which I will then buy in bulk at Wal*Mart and finish in a single sitting, thereby voiding the weight-loss efforts I had intended to make. And then I'd come home to my seven unbathed children, tell Jethro to stop pointing his BB gun at Ellie May, guns aren't toys, they're weapons and should only be used to shoot deers. Yes, deers. Bryan looked at me like I was crazy. So I grabbed myself some beef jerky and dried fruit (hey, shut up) and went to get some film developed. At Wal*Mart.
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