I have gained around fifteen pounds since we learned Lauren was pregnant. The weight is most visible in my midsection and in my face. My jeans are tight. My large shirts no longer fit. I am strictly extra-large for the first time in a couple years.
I am constantly hungry. I am craving sweets like never before. I bought myself some vegan dark chocolate to help me avoid trips to our much less healthy Halloween candy bowl. The result is that I’m just alternating back and forth between healthy and unhealthy candy. I don’t even care. It’s all fucking delicious and I totally deserve it.
Sympathy weight is real. It doesn’t come from hormones. It doesn’t come from actual feelings of sympathy. It comes from having a legitimate excuse to eat a lot of junk food. The excuse isn’t that you’re stressed out and need a few extra treats to cope. The excuse isn’t that your partner is having ice cream cravings and needs a buddy to help her finish off the latest pint. The excuse isn’t that you’re going to be a dad and that’s awesome, so why not celebrate.
The excuse is simply that sympathy weight is real.
I was reminded of the reality of sympathy weight at some point during the first trimester. I can’t remember how — it may have been a conversation or something I read in a book. Either way, that mention of sympathy weight planted a seed in my brain that sympathy weight was a real thing that I would be dealing with soon. And so I spent the next few months realizing the inevitability of sympathy weight, specifically by eating a lot of delicious food.
Realistically, if I really put my mind to it, I should be able to gain another five pounds or so before the baby arrives. I’ll keep you updated.