I have never weighed what I'm "supposed" to. I've always gained weight easily and struggled to lose it. I lost 7 pounds in the year between when I got married and when my husband and I went on a delayed honeymoon cruise. I gained it all back in 2 weeks.
One of my big concerns when I got pregnant was that I might gain more weight than is healthy. Part of my concern was that I'd crave stuff all the time. Another part of my concern is that my body seems to react exactly the opposite of how it's supposed to - when I carefully watch what I eat and exercise, I struggle to lose even a portion of a pound. Weeks that I say "to heck with it - one of my coworkers brought donuts," I lose weight. One summer when I was in high school, we went to the beach and I consumed pretty much nothing but oysters, fried soft-shell crab, and cokes. I lost 5 pounds.
I was chubby and dumpy in high school. While I have never been "thin," I have learned to hide it well over the years. I dress in styles and cuts that tend to flatter and hide, rather than trying to force myself to wear something trendy that won't look good on me. You will never see me in a tucked-in shirt, white pants, or leggings paired with a top that doesn't fall to at least mid thigh.
It also helps that a lot of my weight is in my lower body. Many people who see or interact with me on a daily basis see me behind a desk or counter. I have slender hands and wrists, and good posture. On the rare occasion that I tell someone how much I weigh, they are surprised.
I've done well with the pregnancy, keeping my weight gain in the lower end of what is considered the normal range. While I have been careful about what I've been eating (I had my 3rd milkshake since December yesterday), I also haven't had much of an increase in appetite, and on the very rare occasion that I've gotten a craving, it's been for something like almonds, as opposed to a whole cheese pizza or chocolate cake.
Most people, when they get to their 30's, lament that they'll never weigh what they did in high school or college again. The week I got pregnant, I weighed precisely what my average weight in college was. Again, not thin (actually about 30-40 pounds more than what the charts say I'm "supposed" to weigh for my height) - just what my body seems to have decided what my default weight is. As of this weekend, I have gained 19 pounds which, at 29 weeks, which is considered to be the low end of average for this point in the pregnancy. I also happen to now weigh exactly what I did when I graduated from high school.
Did I say I was chubby in high school? I was fat in high school.
It also helps that I'm a pack rat. All those wide, draw string broomstick skirts that I never got rid of when I lost weight? All those large and extra-large boxy t-shirts I never got rid of from high school? They're saving me money on maternity clothes.
Going back to how I hide it well - I'm fortunate that long, tunic-y tops have been popular for a while. I have tons of those. Tops that now I wonder, did people already think I was pregnant when I wore them?
It's also been kind of weird, though. I'm 5'1", and short in the torso, even allowing for my height. I expected that I would start showing early. I had a coworker last year who was about my height that at about 2 1/2 months (she hadn't even told us yet) we were all looking at her and wondering if she was pregnant. But it's taken me a while to start showing. Even a few weeks ago, I had people telling me "but you don't even look pregnant!"
And, honestly, I haven't looked specifically pregnant. Some women - women who are taller than me - get that perfect little "I'm hiding a volley ball under my shirt" sphere. My sister-in-law (who, admittedly, is 9 or 10 inches taller than me) looked fantastic at her baby shower at 7 1/2 months in her floor length floral dress and her perfectly-positioned little ball. The party-goes with balloons stuffed under their shirts for a game looked further along.
I, on the other hand, now that my wide hips and broad rib cage have finally gotten to the point where they don't hide the baby anymore, look like I have pilfered a pillow from the bed and tucked one end into my pants and the other into my underwire. Bigger, but not round. You look at me and you say, "is she pregnant or fat?" And I don't even mean that in a bad way. It's just not obvious - I'm not a capital P with that perfect little ball - I'm a capital D.
So, what does this have to do with writing? Not much, really, except reminding myself that reality has the luxury of not having to be believable. If I were to write a fiction piece about a 37-year-old, almost-7-month pregnant woman who weighed exactly what she weighed at 18, people would snort and say, "yeah, right."