My 33rd week is now complete. It was kind of a bummer.
I had another one of those mood episodes. I pouted and I cried and I felt miserably sorry for myself, but I couldn't help it. It was all hormones I swear. It culminated last night in my crying hysterically over the news report of the death of that oil-well firefighter guy Coots Matthews - but not because I found it so sad. I was crying because I thought his name and life story were hilarious. I didn't FEEL like laughing, I wanted to be SAD. How dare his story cross my consciousness and interfere with my pout.
Anyway, Husband got me some Taco Time for dinner and I got over it.
I saw my OB today. I gained another 5 pounds over the last two weeks. You know, at this rate, 200 pounds is not out of the realm of possibility. That would be so awesome. I would totally take a picture and ask all the time, "hey, remember when I used to weigh 200 pounds?" Spoken like a true asshole, I know.