I guess the whole “being pregnant” thing is what does it, but I have been SO hungry lately- not the idle, “I want-to-munch” kind of hunger, but the kind that makes you want to mug the person with the bagel. I read somewhere that Catherine Zeta-Jones gained 65 lbs while pregnant. I figure what’s good for her is good for me- she always looked so radiant. I suppose I should look into a team of stylists.
This time around seems like it fits the “model” pregnancy- the strange cravings, the hormonal baggage, the tried-and-true signs of pregnancy which are written up in all the cheesy “YOU’VE REPRODUCED!” books at Borders. I am eating spicy foods like a fat construction worker on a Mylanta commercial: banana peppers, Tabasco, Cajun remoulade on spicy curly fries, mustard in great dollops, everything bagels…R says that it’s because the kid’s going to have a fiery temper, but I just love the stuff. Of course it’s difficult for R to say anything lately without my melting into a puddle of weepy jello-ness. Last night there was no Haagen-Dahz coffee ice cream left, and the floodgates opened their wrath upon R, a poor, unsuspecting bystander who little knew the danger of scarfing the last bit from the carton.
What with leaving the hyperemesis behind, the enjoyment of food is fabulous, and I feel like I am making up for lost time. I don’t want to be a diva, certainly, but it’s like I’ve missed 4 months of food which will need to be replenished. I’m probably at a more healthy weight than I was, but, as I keep reminding myself, usually huddled furtively with a bag of jalapeno chips, pregnancy “is not the time to lose weight”. Says so in my pregnancy book- really!
Off for some onion rings or feta cheese.