I’ve been in a writing slump. I blame the pregnancy brain. It’s been really, really horrible. I mean, it’s hard to write when all you’re thinking about is how long you have to wait until you can “justifiably” eat again. And before that, before the I’m-starving-twenty-four-seven phase that I’m now in, I was constantly pondering how far away the closest toilet was and if I could make it there in time before my breakfast/lunch/dinner made a reappearance.
And there’s always the I’m-too-tired-to-write-or-do-anything-that-requires-me-to-move-from-this-exact-spot phase. That one has been with me from the start.
So I decided today that the important part is that I keep writing (don’t ask me why) and so what better to write about then the thing that is taking over my body and causing me to have night sweats…at least I hope they’re night sweats.
My pregnancy. I know, I know…you all don’t really want to hear how uncomfortable I am. If that’s the case, ignore my posts. They tend to be long and boring anyway.
So here it goes. I’m sixteen weeks along and already I feel like I’m carrying a baby elephant. No, let me rephrase that…already I LOOK like I am carrying a baby elephant. I don’t know what happened to the I-don’t-even-look-pregnant-until-my-pregnancy-is-half-over deal but apparently, this time…it’s a no go. My belly has decided to shoot out at an alarming rate, and let me be honest…this makes me a little nervous.
First of all…I’m hoping this isn't because of all the macaroni and cheese I’ve been eating and secondly, well, no…that’s it.
Today was my anniversary (Nine years and counting!), so Brad and I went out tonight to see that new Facebook movie, which, by the way, I found completely enjoyable. During the previews, I stood up and headed for the bathroom. Brad gave me a look that said “Didn’t you just go like, twenty minutes ago when we first got here?” To which I gave him a look that said “Yes I did, Honey Bun. Now are you going to let me pass or should I just pull down my drawers right here and cause a scene?”
He let me pass.
I quickly left the theater and found the nearest bathroom. Within one minute and thirty seconds (including washing my hands), I was headed back to the theater. I didn’t want to miss the beginning of the movie. I HATE it when I miss the beginning. So I was half running/half walking down the hall, determined to make it back before the previews finished when my nose caught a particular scent in the air, which in and of itself is quite remarkable because I have a cold right now.
Popcorn, my brain said. And my stomach rumbled. I stopped, torn between the movie and the magical smell down the hall. I took another step toward the movie, willing myself to be logical. “You don’t need popcorn,” I said aloud. "You're going to the Olive Garden in two hours."
Only I was wrong. I did need it. I needed it bad. I could see it in my hand, that red and white stripped bag weighed down with butter (Oh! Butter!) and filled with light, warm kernels. My fingers curled into fists. My forehead filled with wrinkles. The stress of the situation was almost too much. An older couple passing by both gave me odd looks as I staggered back and forth like a drunk between the door to the theater and the wide hall beckoning me to the concession stand.
I don’t remember what happened after that. It’s really all a blur. But when I finally made it back to the theater the movie had started (bummer!). I sat down and Brad turned to face me. “I thought you had to go to the bathroom?” he whispered.
“I did,” I said, putting a handful of popcorn in my mouth. He continued to stare me down until I looked at him. Mr. Frugal didn’t approve of me spending $5.25 on a bag of small popcorn—he wanted an explanation. Or maybe he was just aware that randomly buying popcorn at the theater was completely out of character for me.
“I’m sorry,” I said, not sounding sorry at all. I shrugged. “I’m pregnant.”
It was all I could think to say, because, honestly, it’s the truth. I’m pregnant, and right now food has never tasted so good.
Brad laughed. “You’re forgiven,” he said, reaching for some of my precious kernels. And let me tell you…I had to fight like hell not to jerk the bag out of his reach. It was not a proud moment.
What about you ladies? Has anyone else ever suffered with pregnancy hunger pains?