This confession has been eating at me for some time now. In true-confession style, it fills me with tremendous guilt. It makes me feel weak and superficial. And to those of you who don't share my neurosis, I apologize. Because in admitting this hang-up I'm letting go of it. Truth is I wasn't cool about gaining weight. Why? Because as much as I enjoy eating. (And believe me. I enjoy eating.) I also enjoy exercising. And I've taken pleasure in the fact that I've been able to maintain my weight for many years by eating healthy and staying physically active. It's in no way an obsessive thing. It is, I admit, a control thing. And very little has compromised that control until now. For obvious reasons. I'm now 36 weeks pregnant. A rounder, bustier version of myself. A baby apartment with a tenant whose lease is up in four weeks.