Just a little bit vindictive ...

I've been quite polite through this entire thing. My emails have been professional, I've given the appropriate amount of notice, and have given more patience than what should be required of me. I have tried, tried, tried and gotten very little back.

So no, I really don't feel bad that I twisted every light bulb in the place a quarter turn to the left. Just enough so they won't connect. Nope, in fact, I don't feel even the smallest bit of bad for you when you find that the only light in the apartment "doesn't work."

Good riddance. That's all I have left to say.

I'm Too Skinny? And Pregnant?

This morning I was told that I wasn't eating enough. That's only happened twice in my entire life.

The first time was my sophomore year of high school when I became obsessed with having abs. (Which I still think to this day is not physically possible with my body type unless I take some kind of alternate substance to help my muscles grow. Which would look weird and gross.) My father came home from work, looked at me rooting around in the fridge and said, "you need to eat more. You're too skinny."

At the time, I was running several miles a week, I had just had a huge growth spurt over the summer and was doing 1000 crunches a day. I repeat: 1000 crunches. Every. Single. Day.

I'd wake up and roll out of my bed onto the floor and do 200, plus another 300 before leaving for school after breakfast. When I got home from school, I'd do another 300 and 200 before bed. It hurt to laugh.

Yeah. There was seriously something wrong with me.

This time, it was from my Ob-GYN or Lady Doc as I shall now call her. I weighed in this morning at 132 pounds a around 12 weeks in my pregnancy. I was 135 pounds when I found out I was pregnant. I now have a tiny little belly bump which just looks like I ate a few giant bowls of pasta, but it's there! Oh, Husband and I are fondly calling the baby Bean from now until we find out the gender.

Lady Doc talked to me about the importance of nutrition and how I need to not be afraid of how fat I'm going to get. She told me how she can't remember what she looked like when "she was a whale" as she called it. Her mind completely blocked what she had looked like. She remembers being pregnant but not what it looked like.

It felt strange. I not choosing not to eat. Bean is still sometimes making me puke up everything. I've developed a brand spanking new lactose intolerance (which is normal) and had to figure out a whole new way to eat. I'm only NOW getting my appetite back.

But they way she talked to me, you'd think I'd been caught hiding food or bingeing. Lately, I walk around the apartment in tight shirts and yell for Husband to look at my belly. I definitely wouldn't say I'm worried about getting fat.

Although she told me I have to gain a full 30 pounds by the time I reach the end of my pregnancy. It's normally anywhere from 25-30 but because of my size and weight, she wants it to be the full 30 pounds. My cat is around 5 pounds. That's like draping 6 of him all over my body. Or more appropriately, stacking 6 of him on my stomach. That FREAKS ME OUT. 30 pounds?! That's a lot.

So needless to say, this whole pregnancy thing is all shiny and full of happiness at the joy of life. I'm practically glowing as I sit, having to pee in the laundromat but not wanted to use the nasty bathroom.

Also, I'm hungry. Again. Maybe Taco Bell on the way home? Mmmm.....

Isn't it glamorous?