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At doctorís officeóthis time with Nate. I thought they should meet before the good doc was in catching position.

Baby looks good, I officially weigh more than Nate, and Iím moving at speeds that rival my 94-year-old granny. The fatness is bothering me less, though. A lot will go away when baby exits my body. And a lot more will go away thanks to breast feeding. And I had Nate check the underbelly of, well, my belly. He says there are no stretch marks to be seen yet. So thatís something.

The loss of speed isnít even bothering me that much. While it sort of sucks to be the slow poke hugging the buildings as I walk the sidewalks and to have to rest after an hour of being up and about, I kind of like that Iíve had to take the pace down a notch. I physically cannot run around all day doing errands. I cannot bob and weave my way through the trolls of people flooding out of Grand Central each morning so I can get to the office 5 minutes earlier.

Thank you fat belly and swollen feet: Youíve taken the guilt away from me relaxing.
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