Ten pounds. that's what I've gained in the last few months. This is from a combination of things, working at a resteraunt, bored snacking, and having the opportunity to make meals during the day.
Ten pounds was all it took for people to start making comments .I've always been on the thinner side, so I didn't care very much when I noticed these five pounds. But when I started hearing these remarks about my figure? "Those shorts seem a little tight." "That shirt might be a little too small."
I was standing in the kitchen, helping my mother make Sunday lunch, when, to my surprise, she reached over and touched my abdomen. "What's this?" She asked. I gave her a confused glance.
"Stand up straight." At this point, I'm starting to understand what she's talking about, thinking she was just going to ask if I wanted to start running with her. I was not expecting her to look me in the eyes and say, "Are you pregnant?
I felt so many emotions when I heard those words. I felt so sad, that my own mother would look at me and judge my body. I felt ashamed of the few pounds I had gained. I felt as if I had let myself go.
But the longer I stood there, flabbergasted, the more I felt anger. Why did I have to be pregnant to gain weight? Why was it anyone's business if I was pregnant? Maybe I would've felt different if I had a boyfriend or if I was sexually active, but I haven't so much as kissed a boy since October, and this is what I've told my parents several times.
I've always had very involved parents. They want to know everything about my life, and for whatever reason, they seem to always think that I'm hiding something from them. They're constantly asking me about my "secret boyfriend" or the "parties" that I go to. They accuse me of sneaking out at night and getting drunk on the weekends.
I've always been very patient with my parents. My older siblings weren't very trustworthy in their teens, so I understand that they are very paranoid about where I'm going and what I'm doing. But there is a definite difference between being paranoid, and being judgmental.
It was with a hardness in my voice and anger in my eyes that I looked back up at my mother. "No," I said. "I'm not pregnant."
