I've been trying *very* hard not to care and I not only don't own a scale (they all went with my attempt to overcome disordered eating habits), but I ignore the scales at the monthly appointments. But, it's hard not to care when your doctor tells you that at the rate you're going, you'll be too fat to deliver any way but C-section, "because that's the only way overweight women like yourself can deliver". Also that "heavy women like you just tend to be uncomfortable post-partum". Crap like that kicks up those old voices that whisper at you to stop eating, your body can take care of the baby like it's meant to, just don't eat. My hubby actually got pretty mad at the doctor (since he's been a major factor in helping me with my eating problems) and he's been keen to the fact that I've spent my days since the appointment fat-shaming myself and self-hating (almost to the point of resurrecting self-injurious behavior) because the doctor said the words I've been happily ignoring for almost six months now. My hubby loves me for far more than my dress size (and thank God he loves more weight on my bones than less), has thoroughly enjoyed watching our son grow, and keeps telling me I'm beautiful no matter what. I trust him, but sometimes it's nice to hear a stranger echo the sentiment that you're beautiful no matter what.