Ok, perhaps that is being dramatic. While I did weight in at 238 lbs. yesterday at the doctor's office (I was 250 lbs. when I delivered Cohen) I don't feel so bad. I am 23 days away from D-Day. I can still walk. I am not covered from head to toe in a terrible rash. And we somehow managed to come up with enough money to make Christmas a go this year.
If I haven't told you yet that is what Cohen calls me now... fat fat belly, fat fat boobs. As in, "Can I have some more yogurt, fat fat belly fat fat boobs?"
"No, it's not time for me to go to bed, it's time for you to go to bed fat fat belly, fat fat boobs!"