A+ Report

Today was my monthly OB appointment at Wilford Hall. After last month's traumatic visit (you'll recall that the doctor essentially told me I was fat and was killing my baby), I was not at all excited about going. I was still harboring very resentful feelings towards the doctor and was not going to be pleased if he had anything ugly to say. I had already prepared Danny for the speech the doc would get from this hormonal pregnant chick if anything upset me in the slightest. I think he was praying for a pleasant visit as much as I was because he knows the kind of scene I can cause.

As much as I was dreading the visit, I was also desperately hoping that I would have lost weight or stayed about the same or something, anything, other than gained weight. I wanted to prove this guy wrong for hurting my feelings four weeks ago. So, just like on weigh-in days at Weight Watchers (I've been around this block before, you see), I didn't eat anything except hot tea and crackers before my 1:30 p.m. appointment. I was determined to be as light as possible so as to stick a sock in the doc's mouth.

Call me crazy. Call me determined. Call me what you will...I've been called it before. But, I stepped on the scale and had only gained ONE pound this month. HA...HA....HA.

Dr. D walked in the exam room and said, "When is the last time I saw you?"

I said (while thinking, "Look at the chart, bozo"), "A month ago."

He said, "You only gained one pound."

I said, "I know. You made me mad last month, and I've been talking ugly about you ever since."

He said, "Well, I guess you showed me!"

I guess I did, Dr. D. I guess I did. Revenge has never been sweeter, I tell you.

The rest of the visit was fantastic. He complemented me on everything. He even said I had a "cute little tummy" that looked "healthy and fit." I'll take that.

All my measurements were good, and Tyler even put on a show for the doc. He bounced around under my ribs while my belly was exposed, and Dr. D laughed about how he was just going crazy in there. No joke. My ribs will be bruised until I'm 50 years old...

Before we left, Dr. D said he would see us in about four more weeks, and I quickly put it together that my next appointment would be around Thanksgiving. My witty self looked the doc right in the eyes and said, "I'll be sure to schedule my appointment before Thanksgiving so that I can eat without worrying about you and that scale!" Both of the men in the room thought that was pretty funny.

I wasn't kidding. My next appointment is Nov. 21st, the day before Thanksgiving.

In other news, my cold seems to be getting better. I've played hookie from subbing this week in an effort to recoup, and I assure you that I haven't been sad about it. Subbing is not so fun.

Yesterday, on our day off, I found Miss Kitty on the couch looking the way I was feeling. She had her little face covered like she was trying to hide from the world. She is so precious (and such a little fattie), and I thought I'd share...