Unfit mother.

Apparently, I'm an unfit mother already. Pregnancy weight gain casually came up in conversation this morning at work with some of the older ladies I work with (and by older, I mean they could be my mom.) When I mentioned that I hadn't gained any/much, jaws dropped. They stared at me as if I had just said that I got wasted last night while smoking a cigarette and eating 12 hot dogs and a plate of swordfish. One woman, my absolute favorite in the office (I will not use the name I frequently call her as I'm trying to keep this blog PG,) told me that this is really not good for my baby and I should be concerned.

What I said: I assured them that it was 100% fine, my child is growing perfectly, and my doctor even gave me a gold star for it.

What I wanted to say: I'm going to be able to drop my baby weight pretty easily, thank you very much. Just because you still haven't managed to do it 25 years later doesn't mean you get to chastise me in a jealous fit. Bite me.

I heart work.