April 6, 2008

• It’s so much easier to sin when pregnant.   The desire to go on a hormonal rampage is so strong I feel like Bruce in Finding Nemo.  Give me a whiff of blood and I’m out for the kill.  Especially when it comes to food.

  All my food aversions from the first trimester have been replaced with an insatiable desire to horde food, and not necessarily for eating.  I just want to know it’s there and available or I feel panicky.    Don’t steal food off my plate, don’t help yourself to my fridge and horror of horrors don’t drink my water (I’m far far worse than Joey in Friends).    I love my water and it has to be perfect.   I am thirsty a lot these days and I like my water to be cold, but not too cold, and I don’t like lots of ice in it…but I do want some ice.  It has to be that crunchy ice that falls apart easily when you munch on it.  My water can’t be refrigerated otherwise I can taste vague remnants of last nights dinner in my water and that’s just gross.  So the perfect glass of water requires filtered water, and three (freshly frozen) icecubes  which has to sit on the counter for at least five minutes until the condensation drips down the side of the glass, the water is properly cool and the ice cubes reach munchy goodness.   It’s heavenly.  Nothing on earth tastes better. The other night I was doing dishes and was horribly thirsty, but
  patience is a virtue and I’d rather wait five minutes and have the
  ideal glass of water instead of giving into temptation and drinking
  water straight out of the filter, so I was day dreaming about how wonderful that water was going to taste and how delicious those ice cubes would be, when I turned around and saw Jim drinking every last drop of my water.   I cried and possibly ranted and raved, I forget, but poor Jim, who would have thought that drinking a glass of water on the counter could carry such dire consequences? 

  The cravings have also hit full force, and although I’m half convinced that pregnancy cravings are all a myth, I can’t seem to conquer them nonetheless.   So real or not, I am absolutely addicted to calamatta olives, artichokes, tomato soup and wheat free waffles with some prosciutto and cheese thrown in there for good measure.   I figure it could be worse, at least it’s not ice cream and chocolate, but it’s breaking my pocket book since that food is hardly inexpensive.

  Here’s last weeks picture.  The skirt sort of hides the true largeness of my belly, but you can still see I’m a lot bigger.   Everything from here on out is new territory for me, because this is how big I was the day I delivered Jamie.  

  23 weeks (or a little over five months)
  
  

  • 3:19 pm
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